


The odds are never in our favor

by taj_mahal



Series: The accords [2]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dark, Difficult relationship dynamics, Discrimination, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Guilt, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical Procedures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciling, Still not a happy story - but still promising a happy ending, charity work, dark themes, somewhat graphic depiction of injuries (though nothing too bad)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 65,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taj_mahal/pseuds/taj_mahal
Summary: They are all still here for different reasons, all working for this charity dedicated to helping Omegas in desperate need.But their dedication may falter in the wake of events that have seemed utterly impossible up to this point.Roger and Maribel have finally been granted a wish they never even allowed themselves of dreaming about to come true.But as the saying goes : be careful what you wish for.Carlos knows he should be grateful and thrilled at the return of a long lost friend.But with everything he has seen and experienced these last few years working for the charity, he is not so sure optimism is appropriate.Stefanos belief in equality, in the simplicity of black and white has been shaken...And maybe he has a chance to not be better than his nature but be true to it.Sascha is here because he has no choice, or so he thought... in the beginning.Right now he is not so sure anymore.And Rafa, Rafa has returned to them - against all odds and all rational reasoning.Or has he...- You should read 'The game is rigged' first for this to make sense -
Relationships: Mirka Federer/Roger Federer, Roger Federer/Rafael Nadal, Stefanos Tsitsipas/Alexander Zverev
Series: The accords [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959436
Comments: 45
Kudos: 84





	1. Rafa, Maribel & Sascha

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been a while and I admit this series is not yet finished. But I thought I would test the waters and see if there is any interest in part 2 of this story. It might even inspire me to start working on the thrid and final instalation. There is not a lot to say storywise. This picks up right where part 1 left off.  
> The story is not betaed so if you find any major mistakes, let me know and I'll fix them
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Warning for depictions of injuries and emergency medical procedures in this chapter.
> 
> ****************************************

*Barcelona – 2019*

Maribel knows – logically – that nothing has changed. They are still in that bare basement room, there is still the terrible smell of two rotting corpses all around them and there is a whole lot of people in the room with her, all of them either talking or walking or making other noises in one way or another. But to Maribel the room seems eerily quiet all of a sudden and her whole focus is narrowed to the one person buried beneath the heap of dirty blankets, she is absolutely sure is her brother. It's a scent she is intimately familiar with and that doesn't lie. Still seeing the truth – or more so smelling it – and believing, are two completely different feats to accomplish. Right now the whole situation renders her very much speechless... and motionless.

She doesn't dare to kneel down, doesn't dare to reach out a hand and hold onto the hand sticking out from the heap of blankets and she certainly doesn't dare to move any of the cloths around in order to get a good look at her brother. She can't. She's too damn scared – scared of what she will find, scared of seeing him again, after more than a decade of believing him to be lost to her, only to realize that they are too late and that the movement has just been a figment of her imagination... The idea of her brother alive is almost as scary though. She fears that if she takes one look at him, he will disappear, crumble into dust and turn out to be the illusion the rational part of her mind tells her all of this is – brought on by too many feelings and the horrors of the dead bodies she has seen...

Sascha, who is still right behind her and who's presence she feels more than she is actually aware of it, has no such reservations or fears and he does what Mari can't, before she can ever tell him to stop. He steps up to her, bends down and gingerly picks up one of the corners of the soiled blankets, almost as if he fears to be bitten. Maybe that is not too far off from the truth... It's the very obvious fact that the fabric is dirty that makes Sascha careful in his approach. This room is a heap of bacteria and probably a whole bunch of other health risks and of course Sascha doesn't want to get into contact with any of that.

He needs to pull a little and the hand tangled in the sheets moves again and Mari's heart skips a beat. Of course she knows this time the movement is caused by Sascha's ministrations but still she is excited about it. It's all the more disconcerting when the limb is freed from the sheets and drops to the ground – motionless, lifeless... She has no time to think about that implication, because Sascha has pulled the sheet of fabric away far enough to reveal the person beneath and Maribel gets a first good look at the hidden figure's face.

He's skinny, unbelievably so, to the point of looking gaunt and almost emaciated. Under a pair of light blue pajamas, that have probably fit him properly once, Mari can see bones protruding – ribs showing through at his chest, hip bones standing out at the hem of the pajama bottoms... His skin is not only pale, but practically ashen and the sickly pallor only manages to make him look even more ill than he definitely, already is. His face is the worst. Sunken cheeks and eyes deep in the sockets make his cheekbones look way more pronounced than they should be. There is a fine sheen of sweat covering his whole face, the lips are parched and caked with dry blood in several places from where the abused skin has ruptured under the strain and his hair looks lighter to her, thinner and it's a mess of grimy strains sticking into every direction... The person she is faced with looks older, marked by the abuse, the ordeal he has been forced through... But this is definitely her brother.

The sweat on his forehead is already a very good indicator, but now – that she takes a closer look – she detects the movement of his bony chest as well. It is faint and slow, but it is there. It means one thing with absolutely certainty. Her brother is breathing and that means he is definitely alive as well. Now, that she is sure, that there is no doubt they have found her brother, movement returns to her. She drops to her knees – unable to actually keep herself upright anymore – the sheer weight of the situation pulling her down. Sascha reacts surprisingly quickly and emphatically and makes way for her, straightens back up, giving her enough space. As considerate as the gesture is of him, it's not really necessary. Because even though she is closer to her brother now, she doesn't dare touch him.

She reaches out a hand, but it hovers above her brother's prone form uselessly without ever making contact with the too pale, too drawn skin. She is too damn scared to touch him. But she is close enough to detect something else now, something that has been overpowered by the stench of the putrid corpses. There is the distinct coppery smell of blood and somewhere in the back of her mind she remembers one of the members of the response team saying something about blood on the abandoned hospital bed. She tries to concentrate on it, her focus drawn away from her brother's sunken features and the sweatiness to his face as she picks up the soiled blanket again with trembling fingers. It doesn't take long for her to find the source of the smell of blood. There is a bandage half hidden beneath the hem of the pajama bottoms. It's definitely not new, in dire need of being replaced... and it's soaked through with blood...

“He's bleeding...”

Maribel only manages to whisper the words but Sascha picks up on them and he actually does something a lot more useful than just stand there helplessly – as she does. He calls out to the group of members of their response team, who still haven't come over, obviously not sharing their curiosity and believing there is nobody around they can help any more. Now that reality has turned out to paint a different picture and Sascha points that out to them rather forcefully, the field medic accompanying the team on all their missions springs into action and hurries over to them.

“We need help over here!”

The medic is with them in a matter of seconds and he is a lot more effective in his attempt to get to the one patient he might actually be able to do something for. He brushes past Sascha and settles on his knees right next to Maribel when he reaches them and – unlike her – he has no reservations about touching her brother. He carefully turns the... shadow of a person Maribel remembers as her older brother onto his back completely and starts a first assessment of his condition. Maribel watches him anxiously and the fact that the medic is muttering under his breath – and sounds anything but happy doing it - is definitely not a good sign. He's a seasoned field medic, who has seen all kinds of bad stuff over the course of his professional life. He should not be shaken... But he is.

So far he has checked her brother's pulse, breathing and temperature and judging from the expression on his face he isn't happy with any of Rafa's vital signs. Right here and now there is little to nothing they can do about that though. They're still in the middle of triage, of making a first assessment. Because of that, it strikes Mari as rather odd – and on the verge of neglect – that the medic has yet to even make so much as a move towards the soiled bandage. Instead of checking on the bleeding injury, he rummages through his emergency medical bag and Maribel can't keep her concerns - and reproaches - to herself any longer.

“What are you doing? Should... shouldn't you take a look? Remove the bandage, gauge the... the extent of the damage and do something about it?”

“That's not my main concern right now. His vital signs are all over the place from what I can tell and they are deteriorating quickly. His breathing is way to slow and unsteady, his pulse is weak and thready and he has a fever that's way, way too high. He's pretty much delirious.”

“But he moved!”

“It was involuntary. Maybe just a muscle spasm or something. He's definitely unconscious...”

All the while he is talking, the medic keeps his focus on her brother, checks an rechecks vital signs and finally grabs a couple of pieces of equipment from his emergency bag. First to appear is an oxygen mask and the tubing to go with it, as well as a small oxygen tank. Mari knows about those – the medic has explained it to her on their flight in. The oxygen in those tanks will last for no longer than an hour... Their flight home is longer. But they can think about that once the tank has run dry. For now it is one step at a time and to Mari the most important step is to take care of the bleeding and barely dressed wound to her brother's abdomen.

“You have to help him! You have to take care of this injury!”

“The injury is not the main problem at hand. Yes, it's bleeding, but it has been doing that for quite a while. It's not acutely life threatening. What he needs is oxygen and fluids and to be kept warm in order to make sure he doesn't go into shock and simply... slips away. We have to get him stabilized before everything else.”

He's preparing a needle and catheter now and her logical mind tells her not to disturb the medic and let him work, because that is what is going to save her brother's life. But she cannot just sit here and watch. She needs answers. The medic is checking her brother's forearms, cursing under his breath again. He is completely engrossed in the task of whatever it is he is doing instead of getting the damn catheter in place. But when he ignores her question and curses aloud this time, Mari is quick to understand why the medic has not kept going with his emergency procedures. The simple fact is, that he can't.

“So you... you can save him?”

“Damn it...”

“What?! What's wrong?”

“Can't find a damn vein to place the IV... Hold this.”

He shoves both the bag of IV fluids, that is supposed to be attached to the catheter and IV line, as well as a pen light into her hands, tells her to hold on to the bag and turn on the light. Apparently it's some sort of special medical equipment to help him find a blood vessel to stick the damn needle into. It does take two more tries before – with the help of the specialized medical equipment – he finds a vein for the needle to be placed in and the IV bag to finally be attached.

Unfortunately it is not all good. The fluids will be helping, but of course they cannot achieve that task right away. Rafa is in bad shape – Mari has gathered as much without any expert medical knowledge of her own – and the first few drops of IV fluids can only do so much to counter the desolate state he is in. The ministrations to find a vein, the poking of the sharp needle to already oversensitive skin however, is only making matters worse. There is a soft tremble, first to Rafa's hands and arms and then it seems to take a hold of his whole body. Mari holds her breath. The medic curses again.

“This was not helping. Damn it!”

He doesn't explain anything to her, but the medic seems to know what Rafa's reaction is all about and he hurriedly goes through his bag yet again until he finds a prepared syringe and empties it's contents into the IV line. Whatever is in that syringe, it takes an almost immediate effect. The soft trembling stops and her brother's erratic breathing that has fogged up the oxygen mask at an alarmingly irregular and quick rate evens out a bit again. It still sounds labored and way too much like wheezing but at least it is back to a regular, yet slow, rhythm again. Mari feels the sting of tears and she doesn't even try to force them back. Right now, these tears are out of relief and there is no shame in that. Her voice wavers when she asks the medic for a verdict again.

“You can, can't you?”

“What?”

“Save him...”

“I'm doing the best I can here... I'm a field medic, not a damn doctor. I don't have the first clue how to really help him... I can't close the wound, I can't counter the fever. Not without knowing what is going on and for that we need a real hospital – with doctors and a lab. Apart from what little first aid I can administer, there is nothing more I can do. Hopefully it will keep his vitals within an acceptable range until help arrives. This... this is way beyond my pay grade.”

“You dressed battle wounds on soldiers in war zones, damn it! You have to help!”

Maribel doesn't mean to sound reproachful but she is simply worried and scared half to death about her brother's well-being and the very real chance, that she might have found him, only to lose him again without so much as a chance to talk to him. She can't let that happen. And this very medic has used half the flight into Barcelona to brag to her how experienced he is, how good of a professional and how many missions he has been on already – for the armed forces while still a soldier and now with the charity. He has claimed he can treat even the worst of cases and the most gruesome of wounds. This is his chance to prove it and so far his exaggerated tales don't measure up to the dire reality they are trapped in right now.

“This is different. This is not like a shredded limb or a bullet wound. This is a serious infection... There's nothing I can do. I don't even think it's safe to move him... We need to call emergency medical services in here.”

“No! I am not leaving him with the very same people who let this operation go on and on right under their noses without lifting so much as a finger! He has to come with us! Dr. Alvaro can take care of him.”

It's a stupid thing to say and the rational part of Mari knows that. But that rational part of her is hiding somewhere in the corner. This isn't about thinking straight. This is about her brother she was sure she had lost. This is all about emotion. And the last thing she wants to do is to leave her brother in the hands of yet another bunch of uncaring doctors, who have done nothing but to look the other way while – just a couple of miles away – people have been held in this facility, tortured, mistreated, abused and left to die.

Her brother has suffered enough and she will not let it happen again – not even once, not of she can help it. Of course it's a risk, of course taking him all the way back to France could turn into the most colossal mistake she will ever make in her life. But Mari trusts the response team and she trusts Dr. Alvaro and the staff at the clinic. She doesn't trust anyone else when it comes to her brother's health and safety. So there really is only one option. Of course the medic doesn't like it, but the medic doesn't know her brother like she does. Rafa has fought and held on right to this very moment, when they have come here to finally rescue him. He will not give up now – Mari is sure of that. 

“It's a two hour flight and all I can provide is a cot and what I have right here with me, which is oxygen and what is definitely too little IV fluids... He could die...”

“He made it this far.”

“I don't...”

The medic tries again, tries to convince her to be prudent instead of emotional but he can just as well save his breath. Mari has rarely ever been more sure of anything in her life and in the end instinct makes her use her alpha nature to force the beta medic into compliance. She isn't even aware of it. She simply acts on it. Everything else is forgotten – her fight with Roger, the fact that she wanted to leave for home, the fact that her parents await her return. Nothing else matters. Her whole world is narrowed to the one task of keeping her brother alive and making sure he gets well again. Nothing else matters and nobody else gets to say otherwise.

“He is MY brother. That makes it my decision, correct?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good. We're taking him home.”


	2. Maribel & Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read and left kudos on this story. And a special thanks to **Softmen, Lala-land, Okock, MilieLitre, tocaho and clairekang** , who also left a review and let me know that you are all still interested in this story. It means a lot to me and it has actually given me enough drive and inspiration to finish the first four chapters of Part 3.  
> So there's an actual chance I will finish this series thanks to you guys!
> 
> I hope you like this update.  
> I will try to keep a schedule of two updates a week, but it depends on my progress with Part 3 of the series as I don't want to keep you waiting another 5 months for part 3 to arrive. ;)
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.
> 
> *****************************

*Paris*

It's the longest two and a half hours of her life and probably the worst ones as well. It seems almost like fate is out to prove to her, that the idea of taking her brother along to Paris instead of taking him to a hospital in Barcelona, has been a tremendously bad one. Her stubbornness and conviction alone simply cannot change how desperately serious her brother's condition is. They have to stop twice – once on their way out of the basement and once en route to the airport, because the one thing the field medic has warned her about actually happens. Her brother does not tolerate being moved well.  
  
The reaction is the same as it was, when the medic had tried to find that vein for the IV line. It seems any kind of additional stress takes Rafa to the edge of shock, but the medic is able to handle it and at least that much is a relief, even though seeing her brother go through those tremors again is not exactly a pleasant experience... But as bad as it is for Maribel, it has to be a hundred times worse for Rafa. The medic pushes more medication and additional fluids – and is already on the last bag of the ones his emergency medical bag is equipped with when they reach the plane – both times, and on both occasions it does the trick. But that certainly doesn't mean anything positive. It only means that – this far – her brother is holding his own.  
  
The one thing the plane provides that the treatment in the field could not, is monitoring equipment. The field medic has a better chance to check on Rafa's vital signs this way, but the use of the pulse oximeter as well as the ECG does little to nothing to calm either the medic or Maribel. Even if she knew nothing about human anatomy, she could tell from the way the medic's face darkens when he takes a first look at the readouts, that they are not good. As it turns out she knows enough, to tell that a pulse below 50 and above 110 is definitely bad. She also knows that blood pressure is not supposed to drop below three digit numbers on both counts. And she knows an oxygen saturation should be in the high nineties. None of those facts pertain to her brother...  
  
But as bad as her brother's vital signs are, judging from the readouts, they do not deteriorate any further. They have tail wind on their flight and actually land 15 minutes ahead of schedule, which is a good thing. The sooner they can get Rafa to the clinic and into the qualified hands of Dr. Alvaro, the better. There is an ambulance waiting for them at the airfield upon their arrival and this time the transition goes smoothly and without incident for Rafa. Mari insists on being taken along inside the emergency vehicle and nobody protests. Time is of the essence after all.  
  
The intern working at their clinic – mainly for night shifts – is there and he is able to do a little more in regards to keeping Rafa's vital signs stabilized. He places a breathing tube – a procedure Mari NEVER wants to witness again – and places a central IV line to one of the main veins right in her brother's neck and that is yet another medical procedure the younger woman never wants to see being performed ever again. By the time the intern is done, and both oxygen and medication have been provided, her brother's vital signs pick up a little. Mari however feels faint and on the edge of both nausea and vertigo.  
  
It would all be so much easier to tolerate, if Rafa were in any way responsive to the ministrations the medical professionals subject him to. Of course that would be bad. Having needles jabbed into his skin or a tube stuck down his throat is not something her brother needs to be aware of. But there isn't even the slightest sign of discomfort. Her brother is just too deeply unconscious, too lost in the feverish delirium that keeps him under. And of course the medics have pushed medication to keep him sedated. Everything else would simply be torture...  
  
They reach the clinic and Dr. Alvaro is waiting for them and even though Mari barely ever takes her eyes off Rafa, the glimpse she catches of the doctor makes it clear that she has never ever seen the older man look so serious as he does in that moment. The intern rattles off the medical facts of Rafa's current condition in rapid succession while Dr. Alvaro listens to him intently. They reach the part of the medical facility only accessible for staff members and Rafa is taken from Mari once more, whisked away to one of the trauma rooms to be taken care of by the medical staff.  
  
Mari feels like she has walked right into an invisible wall. Her brother is gone and yet again she cannot follow. She has to wait – once more – for others to do the deed and make sure her brother is safe. But unlike with the local police on Mallorca back when Rafa had first disappeared, Maribel trusts the staff here at the clinic to take good care of her brother. He will be fine eventually – she needs to believe that. Not out of conviction but because the alternative is just too horrible to become truth.  
  
Maribel finds a niche with a wide window sill, where she can sit down. She could find a lounge or family waiting room but that would require a conscious effort and that is simply too much to ask of her right now. She couldn't even find the way back to her own office in the building next door even if she had to, even if her life depended on it. She has been working here for nine years now and right now she would probably walk into a wall trying to find the corridor joining the two buildings.  
  
Sitting – however – is good. Sitting doesn’t require an active thought process. Sitting is something she can do. Sitting and breathing, that is about all her muddled brain manages to achieve at the moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there is a small, persistent voice, telling her she needs to be active, needs to do… something. She should probably get her brother something clean and fitting to wear… She should call people. She has to call her family. She has to let them know… The thought alone makes breathing something that her brain suddenly seems to start having trouble with. Breathing and thinking don’t coincide… at least not right now.  
  
She tries, Mari tries really hard, to push every last thought away and concentrates on her breathing instead. In and out. Slow and deep. The unwanted realization, that her brother can’t do that on his own right now hits her, makes her stomach twist and makes her breath hitch. It’s another thought she pushes down. No thinking, not right now. Just sitting and breathing. Blood rushes in her ears, and over the sound of that, she is unaware of footsteps approaching.  
  
Antoine is standing in front of her but it is not until he clears his throat that Maribel actually becomes aware of his presence. She looks up at him and needs a moment to make sense of his presence here. Her whole focus has been so narrowed ever since the realization that her brother is suddenly back in her life… and in desperate need of their help, that she has almost forgotten she hasn’t been alone in that basement. It’s not that her mind is playing tricks on her or that she isn’t grateful for the response team’s help and effort… Thinking about anything else than Rafa and what his return means for him, her and the rest of their family simply occupies every last scrap of energy she can come up with. But of course there are other people – people with responsibilities and right now, Antoine is trying to pawn some of that responsibility off onto her shoulders. As if she doesn’t have to carry enough already…  
  
“I will go to the office for a debriefing now. You should come with me.”  
  
“I am not going anywhere. I'm staying right here until Dr. Alvaro comes back and tells me about my brother.”  
  
“That could be a while… It’s not like there is anything you can do for him…”  
  
All Maribel does in response, is glare at Antoine. He is a seasoned veteran of a lot of difficult and partly very grueling rescue and recovery missions all around Europe, but being given that look of utter disdain and disbelief actually manages to make him feel uncomfortable. He knows he is being detached here – because he can be – but he also knows he is right. Sitting around here, waiting is not going to help the younger woman. All she will do sitting here, is to worry and have all kinds of worst case scenarios go through her head. At least with the debriefing, she has something… useful to do.  
  
But the rejection is practically radiating from every fiber of her being and even though Antoine understands - and feels just a tiny bit intimidated by her display - he is not willing to give up so easily. His own alpha nature makes him want to defy the younger woman. But it is more than that. For him this is a mission, that has been mostly a failure and that has not been easy, but he can compartmentalize, he can look at this objectively. Telling the head of their charity however, that they have found the very man in who’s name and honor the whole organization has been founded, is something that requires a deeply emphatic and emotional approach. That is what he wants Maribel for. If there is anyone, who can understand the feelings that will wash over the Swiss like a tidal wave once he knows, it is her. Unfortunately it’s not that easy…  
  
“I will have to tell Roger.”  
  
“So do. Why would I care?”  
  
“You should be the one to do this. You are both... emotionally involved.”  
  
Something flashes across Maribel’s face at the mention of her and Roger’s emotions and the very fact that they probably feel exactly the same about this. It looks almost like pain, but – as Antoine is about to find out – it is something entirely different. Maribel is furious with him and even that is an understatement. Barely contained rage makes her hands tremble as she gets up from the window sill and almost loses her balance because mind and body definitely don’t function as one in her current state. That doesn’t make her yelling any less loud or vicious though.  
  
“Emotionally involved?! This is my brother, you're talking about! Of course I'm involved!”  
  
“There is no need...”  
  
“For what!? Anger?! Worry?! Fear?!”  
  
Antoine raises both hands in defeat and hopes to calm the younger woman down that way. The last thing he has wanted, is to fight with her. Maybe this has been a bad idea. Maybe he is simply to good at compartmentalizing, at staying detached and not letting the horrors of his day to day professional life get to him. Maybe it’s why he can’t even begin to understand the gravity of what the younger woman feels and the turmoil she is going through right now. Getting her worked up like this has not been his intention, but his attempt at an apology is interpreted as reproach instead.  
  
“All I asked of you is to help.”  
  
“I did help! I am helping right now – the only person who counts. What you’re asking me is to abandon my brother and to go talk to the one person who left him in the first place. That's what you want me to do. Leave him alone to talk to the one person, who didn't protect him in the first place. I will NOT do that, bar a piano falling onto my head!”  
  
“What am I supposed to tell him?”  
  
“I don't care. Tell him whatever you want about your mission. But make sure you tell him he's not welcome here. Tell him he has no part in Rafa's life and if he dares show up here, he will regret it.”  
  
There is so much venom and determination to Maribel’s warning, Antoine is absolutely sure she will make good on her promise. He knows little about the past Roger and Maribel share, about what has caused the animosity and the sheer dislike between them. He knows, it is because of Maribel’s brother and the relationship he and Roger once had. He has never bothered to find out more – rumors and idle gossip are not things Antoine puts a lot of stock in. Right now, a little more knowledge in that department would probably help him. Right now all he can do is keep quiet and nod and find a… diplomatic way to relay Mari’s message to the head of their charity. This will not be pleasant… But then again this whole day has been kind of a mess already – the talk with Roger is simply more of the same.  
  
*#*  
  
Roger is more than just a little surprised, when Antoine steps into his office – still in his work gear and wearing a rather grim expression on his face. He refuses the offered seat and that, combined with his posture and the look on his face, does not exactly bode well in Roger’s book. Still he tries to stay calm. Assumptions are never a good idea, he has learned that through years and years of experience in debriefings with the head of the response team. Antoine is right here. He can simply ask him.  
  
“How did it go? Did Anthea’s tip pay off?”  
  
“That depends on how you look at it.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound good…”  
  
Roger has frowned at Antoine’s reply. Vague answers are not usually something the other man is prone to. He likes to be precise and efficient, which makes briefings with him a little formal, but usually always informative and rather short. Something is different today. Antoine seems… uncomfortable and that too is something Roger has rarely experienced with the other man. Usually Antoine is a stronghold of calm, even when he has to tell Roger about the most dire of missions having gone wrong. A cold hard knot of dread settles deep in Roger’s stomach as he continues to listen to Antoine’s retelling of the events in Barcelona.  
  
“It wasn’t. The clinic was abandoned. They were spooked and left, just as Anthea predicted.”  
  
“That’s… not what we hoped for, but what we feared… There was nobody there then?”  
  
“Nobody we could have asked any questions.”  
  
“What about your additions? Sascha and Maribel, are they okay?”  
  
The thought of Maribel, who had been so reluctant about accompanying the team in the first place, and Sascha, who’s wish for participation Roger still doesn’t understand, but on which Stefanos has insisted, only occurs to him as an afterthought. At least right now Antoine’s face stays unreadable as he relays the information Roger has asked for. What he has to tell the Swiss however, sounds entirely unpleasant and not in the least promising. This was never what the Swiss had intended. Those two were supposed to be shielded from ANY harm – no matter if physical or emotional.  
  
“Okay is a relative term. We… found corpses. Seeing that has had an impact of course. They will need time.”  
  
“So… I sent two members on staff with you for nothing, forced them through a horrible experience and all you found were empty rooms and dead omegas… How is there any pay off in that?”  
  
Antoine takes a deep, calming breath but refrains from closing his eyes for a moment. Maybe being obvious about this would be better. At least Roger would be warned there is something big coming his way. It doesn’t really matter though – the impact will pretty much be the same. But stalling is no longer an option. The Swiss has asked for the results of their mission and it is time to tell him now. Antoine has to let Roger in on the biggest revelations of today’s mission.  
  
“There was a third omega with those two dead. He’s alive… barely.”  
  
“You brought him back?”  
  
“Yes. Maribel insisted on it.”  
  
Roger frowns at that – expectedly so – and Antoine feels a twinge of guilt at the fact, that he still hasn’t told the Swiss the whole truth. This is a lot harder than he has imagined. He doesn't usually deal with loved ones and family members of the omegas they save. He is not used to displays of emotions – of anger like Maribel has just shown. But this is his job and part of it, as well as his responsibility, is to tell the head of their organization about the details of his mission. And he does.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because it’s her brother.”  
  
“I… I don’t… Say that again.”

“The injured and sick omega we found at the clinic. It’s her brother. It’s Rafa Nadal.”  
  
“No...”  
  
The initial emotion Roger goes through is shock – a deeply settled, debilitating shock. Antoine repeating the facts to him again does not help. If at all it makes matters worse. Roger is shaking his head rather vehemently now and a whole array of emotions is flashing across his face now – disbelief, anxiousness, fear and maybe even pain... His denial is not meant as it sounds. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Antoine, the head of the response team knows that. It’s simply that Roger is unable to believe. This is what he has hoped for, for over a decade and now that his wish has come true… he cannot make sense of it.

Antoine is way out of his comfort zone here, but he tries his best to be sympathetic and to deal with the onslaught of emotion that radiates off of Roger. But the other man doesn't even seem to hear him. The Swiss seems like he is stuck in a loop – he is still shaking his head, is mumbling to himself incoherently and he is alarmingly pale all of a sudden. Antoine frowns and needs a moment to realize he needs to pull the older man from his reverie. He tries... with a little more force than necessary, but it does the trick. Roger reacts to him, though not in a very coherent or sophisticated way.  
  
“I do understand how difficult this must be... Roger?”  
  
“I... You... How...”  
  
“Do... do you need anything? Water? Some sort of medication? Maybe a nurse or a doctor?”  
  
Antoine means well, but he is aware how silly his suggestions sound. Neither a drink nor some pill will help Roger with this. The situation is too surreal, the implications too grave. Honestly Antoine has no idea what the Swiss needs, what could help him to actually come to terms with the news. Even posing the question however, seems to cause some sort of shift in Roger. He stops his nervous babbling, stops shaking his head and even some semblance of color returns to his face. And along with comes an expression of fierce determination. Unfortunately Roger's solution to help himself is the one thing Maribel asked Antoine to shut down...  
  
“I need to see him.”  
  
“You... Yes, yes you would want that of course… I'm sorry, but you should probably be careful. Maribel, she is... very upset.”  
  
“Of course she is.”  
  
Somehow the Swiss being understanding towards the younger woman's plight is the last thing Antoine has expected. Especially because Maribel has been so angry and vindictive when it has come to Roger. But maybe he simply doesn't understand the implications of what Antoine's words mean. Maybe the head of the response team hasn't been direct enough. He tries again – relaying Maribel's message - and does his best to use gentle but clear words this time.  
  
“She doesn't want you there...”


	3. Carlos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew - what a week! As you can see from my update schedule, I've been swamped at both work and at home this week and now I finally found some time to both get an update out and restart working on part 3 of the story. It's not exactly working out as I want it to, but it's happening. And Rafa won another Grand Slam last week - so all in all I'm very happy :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read and/or left kudos.  
> A big thank you to **clairekang** , **VioLine** , **MultiFandomPerson** and **MilieLitre** for the comments.  
> Here's the new chapter for you guys - hope you like it.
> 
> Warning for blood, a tiny bit of gore and descriptions of medical procedures in this one.
> 
> *******************************************************

Carlos has just finished up a rather… depressing phone call with Father Petrouce to go over the last details of the funeral for their latest loss – the omega from London - when Dr. Alvaro comes up to him. There is something off about the medical professional. Usually he is calm and collected and always has a nice word and friendly smile for everyone. Right now he looks very much grim and he doesn’t bother with a greeting or other pleasantries as he approaches the Spaniard.  
  
“You have basic emergency medical training, do you not?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Good. Come along. You can help.”  
  
It seems the doctor is expecting Carlos to come along right now, as he already turns to leave, making a rather impatient gesture for the other man to follow. Carlos does as is asked of him – albeit reluctantly and feeling a little like he is being taken advantage of here. Of course he can help and of course he has basic medical training – they all have. This is a clinic after all. But Dr. Alvaro has never before asked him to help out. Then again they have rarely ever been as short staffed as they are at the moment. Maybe it’s just that, maybe the physician simply wants to make sure help is available if necessary. But Carlos doubts that. Judging from the look on the doctor’s face, this is something way more specific… and serious. Carlos wants to make sure.  
  
“Help with what?”  
  
“New patient. Philippe just called from the ambulance. They’re on their way now. Doesn’t sound too good…”  
  
“Like London?”  
  
“Worse.”  
  
Philippe – their doctor in training – had left a little while ago but Carlos hadn’t been informed about the reasons. Given the fact that they are already short handed, it had seemed odd. Now it doesn’t anymore. Still Carlos feels anything but assured hearing Dr. Alvaro’s explanations. The omega from London they had treated had died… Calling this a worse case definitely doesn’t bode well with the Spaniard. Actually it sounds like way above his pay grade and not something Dr. Alvaro should seek his assistance with. This sounds like something the clinic is not exactly equipped for… Of course he has the highest respect for Alvaro and his skills as a medical professional. But there is only so much one doctor can do…  
  
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to do this here? Sounds like a job for a trauma team at a hospital. You know what happened to the woman from London…”  
  
“Apparently your friend Maribel insisted on this. Obviously she is very persuasive.”  
  
“She is at that… But why? Why would she care?”  
  
“I don’t know, Carlos. I didn’t ask. They were kind of otherwise occupied.”  
  
He is sure Dr. Alvaro doesn’t mean to be condescending and the other man gives him an apologetic smile right after snapping at him. He is nervous and stressed – which speaks volumes of the severity of their new patients injuries… Why else would the doctor feel so grim? Right now however Carlos tries to solve an even bigger conundrum. Why had Maribel – who had accompanied the team only because of the guilt she felt towards Roger and merely as a translator – been so adamant about this particular omega?  
  
The only real reason he can think of, is that this is somebody Mari not only knows, but who means enough to her to want to stay close even against medical advice. The only people Maribel feels that strongly about are her friends and family. And the one and only omega Carlos can think of to trigger such a… protective reaction is the younger woman’s brother. But it can’t be… It’s simply impossible. Rafa is lost to them – they all know that.  
  
The next half hour until the ambulance’s arrival moves by in slow motion, like it’s being dragged through molasses. And then Carlos’ world is turned upside down. Because he is exactly right, but even with his suspicions and with the nagging feeling, that the impossible might actually be true, never quite going away, Carlos is completely unprepared for the sight, when he catches a first glimpse of Rafa.  
  
The younger man is in a… desolate state and that is putting it mildly. But as hard as he is to recognize with the drawn yet lax features, the grime and dirt and his overall, terrible state of health, Carlos can tell anyway. It’s that painfully familiar scent that does the trick… And it opens a floodgate of memories. From the first time he has met Rafa – who had been a little awestruck and almost timid on that day – to their first practice together, to the first match they had played, that Rafa had won… and apologized for right after.  
  
But the fondness Carlos feels at the memories is overshadowed and burnt away by the way the younger man looks right here and now. He gets why Mari has not wanted a stranger to treat her brother, but at the same time he is unbelievably angry with her. Rafa should have been in the good hands and care of a hospital back in Spain hours ago… But he is here now and it falls to them – falls to Carlos to help him.  
  
He’s not up to the task. So far every last movement he has made, has been on instinct. But now that they have reached a treatment room where Rafa has been transferred to a bed and is stationary, Carlos has simply… stopped. In front of him the nervous bustling and energy of doctors and nurses working in tandem is enough to make him dizzy. They are all fully focused on the task at hand… which is to keep their new patient alive.  
  
The enormity of that realization – that this is about Rafa’s chance at survival – only makes the nausea and dizziness Carlos tries to fight worse. He’s just another patient to the medical team, which is why they are able to do their job… Carlos doesn’t have the luxury of that same detachment. His job is to help, his responsibility is to be there for his friend to the best of his ability. But he can’t step closer, can’t even concentrate on listening to what the two doctors are discussing. He knows he should, because it will enable him to be of more use, of more help. He tries to focus, shifts his gaze away from Rafa’s prone form and to their intern and Dr. Alvaro instead.  
  
They are discussing a whole bunch of medical stuff. Flow rate and volume of the IV drip, options for medication to stabilize both Rafa’s condition and get his fever under control, tests to be ordered – like x-rays for the lungs to gauge the spread of the pneumonia and build-up of fluid and blood work. There is also a discussion about the possibility of asking for outside help, maybe from an immunologist or an intensive care specialist – somebody who can help them deal with this obviously far spread infection. Only fractions of the conversation actually reach Carlos and making sense of it is even more of an effort.  
  
A nurse – on her way to get the medical equipment Dr. Alvaro needs and has asked her for – almost runs into him, too focused to realize he is uselessly standing there, doing nothing but stare and feel awful in the process. She curses rather profoundly in French, before brushing past him. It’s enough to shift both the intern’s and the doctor’s focus for just a second as well. Dr. Alvaro’s reaction is instantaneous and on the brink of fury.  
  
“Carlos!”  
  
“I... I can't...”

“Pull yourself together and help or step out of the way! Don't just stand there! You're of no use to us this way!”  
  
The loudness of the doctor’s voice finally manages to pull Carlos from his almost trance-like state and gets him to move again. He manages to nod and steps closer to the bed now while every last fiber of his being wants to opt for the second choice Dr. Alvaro has left him… and leave. But he can’t do that. He could never live with himself, knowing he left Rafa alone with a bunch of strangers like this. Not that the younger man would be in any way aware… But Carlos is… and that makes him stay. Almost as if meant as punishment – Dr. Alvaro has the one task for him he certainly doesn’t want to have any part in.  
  
“Take off the bandage and tell me what you see.”  
  
Carlos has seen the offending piece of medical tape and gauze before of course and it certainly doesn’t look much like a bandage any more. More like some sort of makeshift solution to cover the injury beneath. It certainly isn’t protecting it and quite frankly the Spaniard doesn’t want to go anywhere near that thing and he definitely doesn’t want to find out what lies beneath… But he has to, he has been asked to… Reaching out for the once clean piece of fabric, Dr. Alvaro is hissing at him again, this time clearly taken aback by his behavior.  
  
“Carlos!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Gloves.”  
  
“Oh… Yes. Of course.”  
  
Carlos feels stupid now and feels even more like an idiot, when the nurse that bumped into him earlier, helps him with the latex gloves. How the hell he could have forgotten is beyond him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even have stepped near a patient without those… But these aren’t normal circumstances… The gloves are to protect him more than they protect Rafa. Because looking at the soiled bandage, Carlos is pretty sure there is little his unprotected hands could do, to make the injury beneath any worse… He doesn’t want to do this – every last instinct in him tells him to run – but he has to. Because Dr. Alvaro asked him to. Because Rafa needs his help.  
  
He is carefully peeling back the bandage and he expects some sort of exclamation of pain any second now, but Rafa is – and stays – completely oblivious to their ministrations. Whether it’s the fever or the medication already administered, Carlos doesn’t know. Right now he really doesn’t care. The injury that finally comes to light from underneath the soiled piece of gauze looks very much like it is still new… and it is severely infected.  
  
It’s probably the only place where the skin doesn’t have that sickly greyish color but is an angry red instead. Carlos can see the black stitches of an obviously failed attempt to close the wound. They are strained under the pull of the swollen flesh and he can see blood mixed with the yellowish tinge of puss, some of it dried and cracking, some of it fresh. It’s a sickening sight and Carlos hastily swallows a couple of time, fighting the nausea down that threatens to overtake him yet again. He can’t help a whispered exclamation though.  
  
“Good god...”  
  
“Not helping!”  
  
Dr. Alvaro’s interjection pulls Carlos back to the here and now and the task at hand. He shouldn’t have to do this, shouldn’t even have to be here and see his long lost friend so sick and vulnerable like this. But he is and – as a friend – he should do whatever is in his power to help. Right now that means giving Dr. Alvaro a useful account of what they are facing here. Still – even with the determination slowly returning to him – Carlos cannot help the tremble to his voice.  
  
“It... It's infected. And the wound's not closed.”  
  
“Clean it the best you can and redress it.”  
  
Carlos tries to be careful as he does as Dr. Alvaro wants him to, using gauze and an antibacterial wash to get the surrounding tissue as clean as possible without putting too much pressure on it and risk actually ripping any of the already strained stitches. It’s gruesome work, nauseating just the same. But as long as he doesn’t look at the younger man’s face, he can pretend this is somebody he doesn’t know. Just another omega, another patient, another injury to treat.  
  
When he deems his work done – and Dr. Alvaro doesn’t have any interjections this time – he places a new, stark white bandage on the godawful injury and that is the last deed he does before the two nurses and Philippe move again. They take Rafa with them, take him away – probably to a private room upstairs at their critical care ward – and Carlos is left behind, unable to move, unable to come up with so much as one coherent thought. He looks down at the latex gloves still protecting his hands. There’s blood on them. Smeared streaks of red… Rafa’s blood…  
  
He can’t get out of the damn protective gear fast enough once that realization hits him. Carelessly throwing them to the floor they are just another piece in a puzzle of chaos strewn across the floor where the hospital bed was before. A hand lands on his shoulder and Carlos winces and almost jumps out of his skin. He has not heard anyone talk to him or come closer but then again he is not exactly aware of his surroundings just now. Turning to face whoever is there and has a hand on his shoulder, he looks into Dr. Alvaro’s sympathetic face.  
  
“Your hands are shaking.”  
  
“That is my FRIEND you just forced me to help you treating!”  
  
Carlos can't stop himself – he yells. Dr. Alvaro, who has actually come to apologize and tell him his earlier behavior has mainly been due to the stress levels of treating a critical patient like this, looks like Carlos has physically struck him, just a second before he finds his composure again. He hasn't known, hasn't even had a clue, but now he understands. Maribel being so insistent on bringing the sick omega here instead of taking him to a hospital in Spain, Carlos scattered reaction throughout the whole treatment process... it all makes sense now.  
  
“I didn’t know…”  
  
“Nobody knew… Well, Maribel did, but she probably didn’t think ahead. I don’t blame her. This is… it shouldn’t be possible…”  
  
“I needed all the help, I had at my disposal. I'm sorry, Carlos.”  
  
Dr. Alvaro truly means the apology and Carlos gives him credit for that. He doesn't have to, but then again the physician wouldn't be working here if sympathy would be a problem for him. This job they have – the responsibility, the calling – it can't be done without conviction. Carlos manages a lopsided smile, that never quite reaches his eyes. He accepts Dr. Alvaro's apology of course, but he is simply too worked up to put any enthusiasm into his reply. Right now he feels completely overwhelmed and he needs time to digest.  
  
“It's okay. I... I'll be fine. I just need a moment. Seeing him like this. Seeing him at all... I wasn't prepared for that. We all thought he was dead.”  
  
“He's not that far off.”  
  
Dr. Alvaro is being blunt, but it's not meant as spite or insult. He simply states a very uncomfortable truth. But it's truth none the less... Carlos takes a look at his hands again. They have stopped shaking now... He isn't calm by any means, but Dr. Alvaro's rather bleak assessment of the situation has given him one thing – his conviction and belief back. Despite what he has just witnessed, despite the injuries and the overall state Rafa is in, despite what he knows to be true, there is only one comeback to the doctor’s statement – defiance.  
  
“You don't know him. He's a fighter. Always has been.”  
  
“I really don't think that will be enough.”


	4. Sascha & Stefanos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. It's been another busy week last week and part 3 of the story is giving me a little trouble at the moment. Hopefully I'l be able to pick it up again soon. Anyway thanks so much to all of you who read, left kudos and reviews.  
> To my reviewers in partcular: **MyWolfIsAnAssbutt** , **clairekang** , **MilieLitre** and **Marine89**  
>  Here's the new installment. Enjoy.
> 
> Warnings for a tiny bit of gore in the description of Rafa's rescue.
> 
> **********************************************************************

Something is going on, something bad. That is all Stefanos can say for certain. Roger isn’t talking to him – or to anyone for that matter – ever since Antoine has come to him for the debriefing of their mission in Spain. Even the head of their response team has looked pale when he had left Roger’s office and had closed the door behind him. And he hadn’t talked to anyone either… He hadn't even bothered to stop when Stefanos had called out to him, trying to make him stop. Antoine had simply left.  
  
Stefanos’ main concern at the moment are his friends – Maribel… and Sascha. He has tried to call Maribel's office phone, but nobody has picked up. Then he has called her cell phone, but that has gone straight to voicemail. By now he is very much worried that something has happened to either of his friends. Maybe that is why Antoine has been so rattled... But then Roger would have come to inform him... or Antoine would have stopped to answer him.

Which leads to the one conclusion he has already arrived at – something bad has happened. Stefanos is restless at the realization and he can't just sit here and do nothing. He could go and try to talk to Roger or he could find Antoine and get him to tell him about the mission. But neither of the two men had seemed particular accessible. But Antoine has not been the only one with the team and Mari is not the only one Stefanos has a phone number of. So he tries Sascha next.

Home phone and cell phone are left unanswered, but unlike Maribel, Sascha at least sends him a text message back. It's not a lot and there's barely any information to it, but at least the German lets Stefanos know that he is okay, that Mari is okay and that he is back home at his apartment. That's it – that is the entire message. But as Sascha doesn't say anything about wanting to be left alone, Stefanos simply decides to take the text as an invitation. He's being more than just a little bold and of course he is being selfish, but he truly couldn't care less... He wants answers and in order to get them, he needs to talk to somebody who has actually been there for the mission in Spain...

Stefanos leaves the office and decides he neither has the patience nor the calm for a subway ride today. He gets a cab instead and is at Sascha's apartment and knocking on the German's door less than half an hour later. It takes a while, but footsteps inside the apartment tell Stefanos Sascha is there. When the German answers the door, he has a towel wrapped around his hips and is wearing a rather damp shirt, his wet hair dripping onto it and soaking most of it through, especially in the back. There is a tired, but not unfriendly expression on his face when he steps aside to let Stefanos in.

“I knew you would come...”

“Your text didn't say not to.”

“I know. I'm glad you're here. Being alone is... not so good.”

A flash of something that looks alarmingly like desperation crosses Sascha's face and the calm Stefanos has been able to gather, seeing the other man now and knowing for a fact, that he is okay, evaporates again. Maybe something has gone wrong after all, maybe somebody's hurt, maybe even Mari... It would explain why Sascha is here instead of at the office, in need of a shower and rest... Stefanos has a hard time to even formulate the question, but he has to ask. For his own peace of mind.

“What happened?”  
  
“We found three of them. Three omegas. Two of them were dead. Had been for a while. The smell of it... and those bloated heaps of rotting flesh. It was... I can't even describe it. I... I can't get it out of my head. Seeing that and smelling it. I... I feel like I still smell of putrification and rot and death... I showered like half a dozen times.”  
  
“You smell completely fine to me. You smell nice actually…”

It's a completely random and not very helpful answer and it is definitely the wrongest of times for a bit of something that could easily be interpreted as cheeky flirting. Stefanos knows all that. He has no idea how else to react though. He's not sure what he has expected, but Sascha telling him about bloaty dead bodies and the stench of death has definitely not been on the list. Of course there is always a chance for disaster on those missions, which is why Stefanos has wanted for the German not to got in the first place,. But this... this is graphic and Stefanos has no idea how to handle it. 

He has seen a lot of bad during his years working for the charity and he has seen dead bodies before – like the dead omega from Croatia, or the one from London now and quite a few others before that. But those had been recent deaths and even though there is a definitive difference between a sleeping and a dead person, there were never any clear signs of decay whenever he had paid last respects to one of the unfortunate omegas who had not made it... What Sascha was describing to him sounded heinous and sickening and not like something anyone should ever go through... The German isn't even listening to him – which is probably why there has been no cheeky remark – he is too lost in the horrors his memories serve him.  
  
“And whenever I close my eyes, I can see them. The bloated bodies, the marbled skin about to burst, the patches of dark, stinking body fluids on the sheets...”  
  
“I never should have let you do this...”  
  
Logically Stefanos knows none of this is his fault. He hasn't killed those omegas and has left them to rot. But he has been the one to relay Sascha's wishes to Roger, who – in turn – had spoken to Antoine. Had he stayed strong, had he told Sascha a definitive no, none of this would have happened and the German wouldn't be scarred by the experiences he has made today. This time however Sascha is listening to him and he shakes his head at the Greek rather vehemently, almost as if angry with him.

“You didn’t let me do anything. I wanted this. It's too late for that now anyway. I went, I saw... I won't ever forget. Good god...”  
  
“Is there anything I can do?”  
  
“Check in at the clinic.”

Sascha sounds tense all of a sudden and Stefanos' heart clenches painfully in his chest. Seeing Sascha walking and talking and well – or as well as he can be given the circumstances – Stefanos has been fooled into believing everything and everyone else is okay as well. He has let his guard down and obviously that has been a mistake. His mouth is suddenly dry and he has to swallow a couple of times before he can get a reply out. As it turns out, Sascha's interest in a call to the clinic is not about Mari or anyone on the response team, but about an omega... a rescued omega to be exact. Somehow that fact has eluded Stefanos until now. He has been too focused on his friends to really listen to what Sascha has been telling him in any detail.  
  
“Why? You just said you found corpses.”  
  
“I said we found two corpses.”  
  
“Two... Two out of three... You brought one of them back alive?!”  
  
“Yes.”

Sascha doesn't look at him when he answers and it looks almost like he is shivering. Maybe he is and maybe he is simply cold but somehow Stefanos suspects there is more to it – that it is more of an emotional than a physical reaction. He doesn't really get what is going on with the other man. Maybe it is the memory of the death and devastation he has seen. But it has not been for nothing. In all the misery Sascha has subjected himself to today, the mission he accompanied has not been a failure. They have saved somebody, they have brought somebody back alive. That is what they do. That is the purpose of the charity... and every life counts.

“Why would you sound troubled? That's great news.”  
  
“I'm not so sure about that... The field medic, he was... not exactly hopeful...”  
  
“Oh...”

The thought that the omega, who has returned with the team and is in need of medical attention at the clinic right now, could be in bad shape has never once crossed Stefanos' mind. He should have known better of course. He has enough experience with the outcome of these kind of missions to know. But with all the bad that has been going around, with the two dead omegas in less than two months, he has simply hoped for a win for the home team. It seems they are out of luck... Sascha still looks deeply troubled and takes a moment before he speaks up again. As it turns out, his subdued reaction is not about the rescued omega's poor health – not exclusively after all.  
  
“There's more.”  
  
“Okay...”  
  
“It's Rafa Nadal.”

Sascha's reply makes no sense and stands there in the room between them completely without context. Stefanos has no idea what the German is trying to tell him. It's almost like he has somehow managed to miss part of Sascha's explanation, like there has been more to what he has said, but the Greek simply hasn't heard it. This way – stating the name of their charity's namesake – Stefanos doesn't have the faintest clue as to what Sascha means. The thought to put Rafa's name in context with the response team's mission never once crosses his mind.  
  
“I... I don't understand. Who is?”  
  
“The omega we brought back.”  
  
“Say that again.”

Stefanos doesn't say the words to ask for a repeat - for dramatic effect - like they do in the movies. He actually has a hard time wrapping his mind around the concept of the saved omega actually being Rafa Nadal. In all the time he has worked for the charity, Rafa has always been a distant but fond memory of people who had known him and were here in Paris working for the charity to honor his memory. To Stefanos Rafa had never been more than that. But here Sascha is, overthrowing his whole view of the world, telling him Rafa is suddenly alive and there and real and not just a memory any more... It is a hard truth to accept, even if it is a good one. Then again, given what Sascha has just told him about Rafa's condition, maybe not so much...  
  
“Maribel was sure about it. She said it is her brother. We found him...”  
  
“That can’t be right…”  
  
“I really wouldn’t know. I mean I got a good look, but the last time I was face to face with the man was 12 years ago. I was ten, I barely remember any of it… But Maribel was absolutely sure. She would know, I guess. It’s her brother after all…”

The fact that Sascha has actually seen and talked to Rafa before – even though it was years and years ago, has eluded Stefanos for the moment. Even if Sascha's memory of the encounter is sketchy at best, he still has something Stefanos does not – a real memory of the older Spaniard. Stefanos knows Rafa only from the stories Maribel and Roger have told him. To him Rafa is nothing more but a part of their imagination, a part of their past life and only living in memory. But everything has changed all of a sudden... It could have changed years and years before, Stefanos realizes with a sudden feeling of dread. If only somebody had decided to check out that particular 'clinic' a whole lot sooner...  
  
“He’s been there… all this time?”  
  
“I have no idea. I guess. He was in no condition to ask him…”

The other man sounds deeply troubled yet again and Stefanos realizes he has no idea how Mari's brother is doing. All he knows is that he is receiving treatment at the clinic. Apart from that all Sascha has revealed to him so far, is that he field medic accompanying the response team had not been 'hopeful' about Rafa's condition. But apparently the Spaniard had survived the trip from Barcelona to Paris... so how bad could his condition really be? All Stefanos can do is guess. But he doesn't have to. He is right at the source after all, but Sascha isn't exactly of much help.  
  
“How bad is it?”  
  
“Bad. That’s all I can tell you. I’m no doctor…”  
  
Stefanos nods at that and has to hide back an impatient remark. Sascha is not helping to quell his curiosity but then again he shouldn't have to and Stefanos should most definitely not be leaning on him for details like this. Here he is asking Sascha question after question about Rafa – a man he neither knows nor has ever even met – while his friend is in real anguish over the horrors he has seen today. Stefanos is being a really bad friend here... and it has taken quite a while for him to even realize that.

“I’m sorry.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Grilling you about details like this. You just went through something horrible…”

Sascha actually shrugs his shoulders at him in response and Stefanos assumes it is the German's alpha nature taking over for just a moment, telling him to be both strong and brave. He doesn't have to be. Not around Stefanos. They are... friends or something. Either way the German should know to trust him. But as it turns out, Sascha's reluctance to be open about his feelings has nothing to do with the Greek and all to do with himself. He seems to think he deserves what he has gotten... because he has been the one to ask for it in the first place. 

“By choice.”

“That doesn't make it any less horrible.”

“No... No, it doesn't.”

Sascha shivers again and this time Stefanos is sure it's an emotional reaction – a reaction to trauma... He wants to help, desperately so. But Sascha has already told him what he needs and that is clarity about Rafa's condition. Stefanos can do that of course, but he feels it isn't enough. He can't just call the clinic, tell Sascha the verdict and then leave the other man alone again. So he rephrases the question, leaving every option to the German but making it abundantly clear that he isn't simply leaving again.

“Would you like company? Food? Maybe a movie?”

“Company is fine. No food. I... I can't eat anything. A movie is good. But nothing suspenseful, gruesome or tragic.”

“Disney?”

Sascha nods at that and for the very first time since Stefanos has come here, there is a genuine smile on the other man's face. It's tiny and it's only there for the fraction of a second but it's progress. The only problem with Stefanos' suggestion is, that he cannot actually follow through on it. Of course he will stay and of course he will make sure Sascha will be okay but he cannot watch a Disney movie with him. Not because he doesn't want to, but for more... logistical and practical reasons. 

“Perfect.”

“I... I don't think I own a Disney movie.”

Stefanos sounds so contrite he actually manages to make Sascha laugh. The other man grins a very soft, very guarded, very tired smile afterwards and Stefanos is glad to see that the German is a little happier, a little more relaxed now. Of course being nice to Sascha, spending time with him and watching a movie with him will not make him forget what he has seen today. It will take time for Sascha to digest, to process and learn to live with the trauma... Right now is mainly about distracting Sascha and making sure he feels safe. That much Stefanos is sure he has managed.

“That's just sad. How about this – I check my collection and you call the clinic?”

“Deal.”

Sascha needs a while to find the right box of stuff he had his parents send to him in order to feel more at home at his rented apartment, but finally he finds the DVDs and a movie to watch with Stefanos. Being alone in his bedroom while he is looking for the box however, is not a good thing. He remembers again, the picture of the corpses vivid in his mind again and he needs to get back to the main room, back to company, back to Stefanos. Having the Greek here helps. He hurries to find what he is looking for and when he comes back, Stefanos has just hung up the phone and holds it up for Sascha to see in order to explain.

“I talked to Carlos.”

“And?”

Stefanos takes a deep breath and for a second, Sascha is sure there are bad news. In the end that's not what Stefanos' reaction is about. It's not sadness or desperation he feels, but defeat. Because there are no real news whatsoever and Stefanos simply would have liked for Sascha to get the one thing he wants and needs right now – clarity for his own peace of mind. But at least he doesn't have to be the bearer of awful news. That is something at last... though it definitely is not a lot. 

“He's alive... Rafa's alive. That is all he could tell me for sure... and for the moment.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I don't know. He didn't either. It's a waiting game now...”


	5. Maribel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood, a bit of gore and medical procedures.
> 
> It's been a while, but I hope there are still some people left reading this. Enjoy.

Maribel has resumed her spot at the window after Antoine had left and she has been sitting here for over an hour now. She can tell because there is a clock on the wall, directly above the doors leading to the treatment rooms that mockingly tell her ‘Staff only’. It’s ridiculous really. She is a staff member after all. Maybe not at the clinic, but she should have every right to walk through those doors. But she doesn’t. Because she can’t help her brother anyway. Dr. Alvaro can.  
  
Having time to sit and think has not helped Mari much. She doesn’t feel calmer than before. Actually she feels worse. Sitting here with nothing to do gives her the perfect chance to go over this whole day in her head yet again. What if she had never detected that faint smell of death lingering in the hallway? What if her brother had been alone in that room and there hadn’t been anything to smell? What if bringing him here had been the final piece of stress and strain to destroy every chance for his recovery…  
  
There are too many options, too many ways things could have gone better… or way, way worse. And thinking about them makes her nauseous… But not thinking about them, simply shutting her own head up and not thinking anything, is not an option either. It’s exactly 92 minutes after their arrival when the doors to the adjacent ward open and Dr. Alvaro comes back to her. He looks tired… but other than that his facial expression is unreadable. Mari gets up, practically jumps from her seated position, and steps up to the doctor with a few, determined strides. She has waited for answers long enough.  
  
“How is he? How is my brother doing? Will he be alright?”  
  
“Well… He is holding his own for now and that is a good thing. It’s not exactly progress, but his condition is stable. That doesn’t mean it’s in any way favorable though. It simply means his condition hasn’t deteriorated any further. I would highly recommend transferring him to a hospital, but given his current condition, moving him is a bad idea. Frankly, I have no idea how you managed to get him here alive. The additional stress of transport – let alone a two hour flight halfway across Europe – should have proven too much… But it didn’t.”  
  
Dr. Alvaro’s answers are… guarded, but they leave little room for interpretation. Mari is not supposed to get her hopes up – that is the main essence of the doctor’s explanations. Her brother is sick, desperately so, and there is only so much the doctors can do. Maybe if she had simply listened to the medic… Tears are threatening to fall, but she fights them down angrily. Crying over what is done now is of no use to anyone, especially not her brother. Still Maribel tries to defend her actions, even though she knows she really can’t. None of her decisions have been on her brother’s behalf – not really. They were what she needed in that moment.  
  
“The medic told me… He advised against this, told me to call an ambulance and put my brother in a hospital right there in Barcelona. But I… I just couldn’t.”  
  
“I understand that. And I do not mean to judge or reproach you. All I mean to do, is to make you understand that while this might make you feel better, you didn’t do your brother any favors…”  
  
Had Dr. Alvaro used any other tone of voice, his words would very much sound like reproach, maybe even like a very vicious accusation. But he is calm and gentle and there is a soft smile on his lips, that speaks volumes of his empathy. It’s hard to deal with at the moment, because the last thing Mari wants, needs or feels she deserves is sympathy. All of that should go to her brother right now – he is the one who is sick and hurting… and maybe she has actually added to that instead of making it better. The sting of tears reappears again, but she fights the instinct to cry over the sheer unfairness of it all down one more time. Still her emotions show all too clearly in her thick and slightly trembling voice.  
  
“But you just said he’s stable…”  
  
“Yes, I did at that. But you have to understand that this is not cause for optimism.”  
  
“What does that mean? He’s not… Is this like with the woman from London? It’s too late? All you can do is… make him comfortable?”  
  
The very horror Mari feels at that particular outcome of the situation is almost too much to bear. She needs to sit down again, take a breath, close her eyes and calm her thoughts, she knows all that. But she can’t. Instead she is hanging on every word Dr. Alvaro says. At least in this regard, he has good news for her. Unlike the omega from London – who had already turned septic before Alvaro ever had a chance to get to her – her brother is a long way off from that. That doesn’t mean he’s fine though. Mari understands that all too well.  
  
“I did not say that. It highly depends on how the next 48 to 72 hours progress. If we can get the infection under control and the fever to recede, I am cautiously optimistic. If not… then no effort from any medical professional will be enough. I’m sorry…”  
  
Mari has known from the start, that having hope is a treacherous thing. Still it’s an urge and need settled deep inside her she simply cannot fight. She wants and needs her brother to be okay, wants a chance to talk to him, look into his eyes, see him smile. There are so many things she has missed about him all those years…That longing makes it easy to forget, that chances are slim… Still she knows Rafa is in really bad shape. She has seen him after all...  
  
What she still doesn’t understand is why her brother is in this godawful state in the first place. The other two omegas in that basement had been dead for a while, probably suffering from some sort of illness or injury that made taking them along too much of a risk, as the clinic had been vacated by the ‘people’ – and Mari uses that term very loosely in this case – running it. But her brother had held on… Logically speaking, leaving him behind had made no sense… Of course she knows Dr. Alvaro can only guess, because only Rafa himself can tell them the whole story. But he is pretty sure her brother’s injuries paint enough of a picture…  
  
“What the hell happened to him?”  
  
“I'm not even sure where to start...”  
  
“Why don't you tell me how he could... end up like this? This wasn't like in Croatia or London, where the well-being of the omegas meant nothing to their captors. This... 'clinic' used the omegas for... for breeding. It would have been in their best interest to keep them healthy, would it not?”  
  
She hates to talk about Rafa like this – in a clinical and detached way. But years of working at the charity has taught her that a little bit of compartmentalizing is not only good, but necessary. It helps them stay sane around here… Still this is different – harder – because Rafa isn’t just any omega to her. He’s family… which makes it all the more important to her to understand what has happened to him… and why.  
  
“Only up to a certain point.”  
  
“I don't understand...”  
  
“It really is too early to tell without a set of thorough tests but from my preliminary findings, it looks like your brother was forced through a... prematurely terminated pregnancy not too long ago. I'd say maybe a little over a month ago. He didn't recover from that and – with the threat of them being detected already imminent – they simply stopped taking care of him... I assume that is how long he has been locked away in that basement, left to die...”  
  
Pregnancy… of course the word has been looming above like an executioner’s ax ever since Rafa had been found in that particular place. Believing that exploitation hadn’t happened there, just because Rafa was a good soul, a decent human being and didn’t deserve something like this, was the epitome of naiveté… And still Mari had hoped. Of course it has been in vain, and now the injury, bandaged but still bleeding, that her brother had sustained, made a lot more sense to the younger woman. It’s the remnant of a c-section… and from the looks of it, it has barely even healed yet…  
  
She doesn’t want to think about the implications now, wants to shove this as far away as possible. But her mind doesn’t let her. The rational part of her – that has mostly been hiding ever since they had found Rafa – wants answers, wants details. She needs to know what her brother has gone through, if only to make this decade of lost time count for anything… He has been there all this time… and none of them had come to his aid. If at all, she deserves to hear what he has gone through in gruesome detail. And that isn’t even close to punishment enough… The whole purpose of this charity is to save omegas, and her brother had waited for help in vain… for eleven years.  
  
“Pregnancy… That… that makes sense… I mean, that's what they do... Force omegas to breed?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How many?”  
  
Something flashes across Dr. Alvaro’s face that could easily be interpreted as anger. Mari knows better. It’s rejection – the unwillingness to answer the question. Whether it is because he wants to shield her or because he doesn’t really know yet, Mari has no idea. It doesn’t matter. She needs to know this, she needs a number, something solid, something she can make sense of. She needs to know the extent of her brother’s whole horrible ordeal and in order to achieve that, she has to know how many times he has been forced through having somebody else’s child. Dr. Alvaro stays surprisingly stubborn… but not for very long.  
  
“I really don't feel comfortable...”  
  
“How many?!”  
  
“Judging from the accumulated scar tissue, I'd say seven. At least. Maybe more.”  
  
In the overall scheme of things seven is not a large number. But in this particular case it’s a monstrosity of a number. A pregnancy takes 10 months… and given a necessary recovery time in between – because even those horrible places fronting as clinics and operating beyond any legality or human decency need to abide by this in order not to lose their… product – which should have at least been six months, though Mari doubts it has ever been that long, her brother has been going through one forced conception and subsequent pregnancy after the other pretty much since he has disappeared… And that doesn’t account for any tries that weren’t viable…  
  
No breaks, no breathers, no time to heal or adjust or come to terms with the loss of the life growing inside… She knows how hard that is for any omega. A child’s life is sacred, losing one is the end of all hope and purpose in life. She has seen it before, when pregnant omegas in a bad state come to the clinic or safe house and lose their child. She has seen depression, she has seen self harm… and she has seen suicide… Omegas don’t deal well with the loss of a child – never. She cannot even begin to fathom how her brother has lived through any of this… Probably by force… With the rushing of blood in her ears, she almost drowns out Dr. Alvaro’s voice as he speaks again.  
  
“There are other, older injuries but I really wouldn’t want to speculate about those right now. Let's just say they paint a vivid and – unfortunately – rather gruesome picture. But we can get into more detail about that if and when your brother is better. Right now chances for that are not exactly high.”  
  
“The field medic said his vitals weren't good.”  
  
“That is an understatement.”  
  
It’s the first time since they have started speaking to one another, that Dr. Alvaro allows for sarcasm to seep into his voice. Mari doesn’t blame him. Both the field medic and the intern had either cursed or looked very much grim at the display of Rafa’s vital signs on the monitoring equipment. But that is what they have taken her brother here for after all – so that a qualified medical professional – like Alvaro – can help him get better.  
  
“But you fixed it. I mean, that’s what you were trying to do, right? Get him stabilized?”  
  
“It’s not as easy as the field medic may have made that sound. Medication alone is not going to do the trick here. There is a reason his current condition is so worryingly serious.”  
  
“The fever.”  
  
“Yes, partly. But it’s not just that. You probably noticed it already when you first saw him - there are clear signs of malnutrition, of dehydration, of muscle atrophy and – of course – blood loss. Though none of those factors alone are life-threatening, they make for a very potent and very dangerous mix of maladies that all factor into your brother’s current poor condition. We are addressing every problem separately and of course there are things we can do to help him, but you have to understand that these are long term treatment options. They will not make anything better right away.  
  
That in itself is a problem. But my main concern at the moment is the infection. It's bacterial – which is no surprise given the fact that he was locked in a room with those two putrid corpses – and it has settled in the open wound, in his lungs and pretty much everywhere else that it could take hold of. It threatens to invade his blood stream and if it does, then it will be just like with the omega from London. In that case there is little to nothing I can do for him. If he turns septic, than that's it. He's simply too weak to survive that.“  
  
Dr. Alvaro is being brutally honest with her and Mari appreciates that. It hurts and it’s scary but she prefers this open dialogue, rather than Dr. Alvaro beating around the bush. There are no middle grounds here and they both know it. In the end Dr. Alvaro is trying to prepare her for the worst…and that is a prudent thing to do. But despite everything she knows, Mari doesn’t want to give up hope. She simply needs to hear that her brother will not be lost to her – especially not now that she has finally found him. It’s all the reassurance she needs right now and Dr. Alvaro is kind enough to give it to her.  
  
“But he might?”  
  
“If there are no complications, if the antibiotics take effect as quickly and efficiently as they should, if the fever goes down and if his vitals do not deteriorate any further due to the rather aggressive treatment he will be submitted to in order to get this multitude of bacterial infections back under control… yes, he might.”  



	6. Maribel & Carlos

Dr. Alvaro hasn't had any objections, when Mari had asked for a chance to see her brother. He has had conditions though and it is only in Rafa's best interest, Mari knows that. All unnecessary contact with anyone is to be avoided under any circumstances. There simply is too much of a risk to aggravate the infection and Dr. Alvaro has made it abundantly clear that Rafa would – most definitely – not survive that. That means Mari is not allowed into her brother’s hospital room.  
  
That's okay with her though. As much as she would like a chance to actually touch her brother – as she hasn't dared to do that before – and make sure he is actually there and real and not just a figment of her imagination, she certainly doesn't want to risk his health any more than she has done today already. As the patient rooms of the critical care ward all have larger viewing windows, it isn't all that bad. At least this way she gets a chance to get a good look at her brother... as unpleasant as that may be.

Dr. Alvaro actually accompanies her up to the ward and lets her in but takes his leave of her afterwards. He asks her to drop by tomorrow for a spare key, so she doesn't have to call on him or any of the other staff members whenever she wants to see her brother. Dr. Alvaro is very much right in his assumption that Mari will not leave the clinic any time soon. She has not had her brother in her life for 11 years and that is definitely enough. She will not leave him again – not of she can help it.

The floors of the critical care unit are deserted, but Dr. Alvaro has assured her a nurse and their intern Philippe are around. Rafa is in good hands here – monitored and taken care of – and just because she can't detect anyone, doesn't mean they have suddenly abandoned their post. They are all too devoted to do that... and of course they know there would be hell to pay. The first person Maribel finally does run into is not somebody she has expected. She hasn't even known the older man was around today... But here he is and Maribel is sure he already knows.

“Carlos…”  
  
The older man gives her a soft, sad, tired smile when Mari whispers his name and she is absolutely sure Carlos not only knows about Rafa but has been to see him as well. It explains that pained expression on his face. They both feel exactly the same – overwhelmed... Of all the people around, Carlos can probably understand her the best. Carlos has been Rafa's friend, Carlos has known her brother for a long time... and Carlos has come here – to the charity – to help out of the irrevocable believe that this is the best way to honor Rafa's memory. Carlos she can trust.

Maribel drops her guard for only a second but that proves to be too much already. The second she allows the wave of emotions, she has tried to hold back ever since she has first laid eyes on her brother back in that basement near Barcelona, to wash over her, she loses control – of them and of her ability to stay strong. The tears flow freely without any warning and she sobs softly as she takes two large steps forward and crushes into Carlos' arms, which he holds out wide for her, inviting her in, wrapping them around her and giving her the comfort and shelter she needs.

They stay like this for quite a while, while Mari cries – softly and soundlessly, with only the heaving of her shoulders and the fact that Carlos' shirt gets more and more damp the longer they stay like this – any indicator to her emotional turmoil finally finding a way out of her. Carlos has been silent the entire time, rubbing soothing circles onto Maribel's back and holding her like the little girl she had once been when he had first met Rafa – and subsequently the rest of his family. It takes time, but Maribel calms down a little eventually and it is only now that Carlos tries to reassure her, though he is mostly mumbling incoherent words, meant to soothe her more than to inspire her.   
  
“Hey… It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”  
  
Mari knows the older man only means to help her and make her feel better, but his words leave a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. It's not her he should care for. She has made nothing but wrong choices ever since the response team had found her brother. Dr. Alvaro had been clear on that. She had been more alpha than even a textbook would have considered possible. She had risked her – omega- brother's life for her own personal gain and here Carlos was – yet another omega – trying to cheer her up... She looks up at Carlos, tears still clouding her eyes.  
  
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”  
  
“I know. Come on. I’ll take you to see your brother.”

Carlos lets go of her, gently releases her from the hug they have shared, takes a step back and reaches out a hand for her to hold onto. Mari can't help but smile. She feels like she is ten again, which is the last time she remembers Carlos doing the very same thing. Rafa had been with their uncle for practice and Mari was with them and supposed to stay court side. Toni would have taken both of them home later on. Rafa was supposed to finish practice, she was supposed to sit and watch and stay.

But she had gotten bored and she had wandered off and then she had lost her way. Carlos had found her – crying and scared – and had brought her back. She had been lost then and he had taken her hand and had reunited her with her family... just like he was doing right now. She grabs the offered hand and it makes her feel remarkably calm all of a sudden. Like a soothing balm... She looks up at Carlos again, questioning the reasons as to why he can lead the way.

“You've seen him already?”

“I helped Dr. Alvaro during the initial treatment. It was... not pleasant.”

There is a hint of pain and something Mari is pretty sure is dread darkening Carlos' voice and she feels every last muscle in her body clench painfully at the thought that Dr. Alvaro had actually tasked Carlos with helping them out in Rafa's treatment. Of course that had been awful for the older man. Like the realization that after 11 years, Rafa was suddenly back in their life and in such a desperate and awful state, hadn't been enough to digest already.

But Dr. Alvaro had actually asked Carlos to help... Maribel hadn't even dared to touch her brother before... She can only imagine how hard being in that... clinical and detached environment of efficient medical work must have been, while he was trying to work to the simple but overwhelming fact, that Rafa is still alive... She gives Carlos a sympathetic look and can't stop a few more tears from falling. She deeply feels for the older man.

“Oh Carlos, I'm so sorry... He shouldn't have asked that of you.”

“He didn't know. How could he? This is a damn miracle... 11 years...”

The way Carlos says it, it almost sounds like those 11 years in between have been a good thing somehow. They are very much not. For Rafa there has been nothing but misery and shame and pain... lots and lots of it from everything Dr. Alvaro has told her. There is nothing good about the amount of time having passed. She could tell all of that to Carlos – could tell him this is no miracle but a nightmare. But she doesn't do it, doesn't want to crush that little spark of hope the older man holds onto. The situation is bad enough as it is already – they don't need to make it more complicated with words...  
  
Carlos has lead her down the corridor and they have stopped in front of one of the windows allowing a view into the patient room that lies beyond it. It actually takes a conscious effort from Mari to raise her head and look. It has been two hours since she has last been close to her brother and she is scared of what she will be confronted with this time. Most definitely it can't be any worse... She gasps when she takes a look. It's not a whole lot better either...

The hospital bed with it's stark white bed wear looks way too large for her brother, who is a lot thinner and a lot less... present than she has ever experienced him before. Of course that shouldn't come as a surprise. Rafa isn't all there at the moment. He's deeply unconscious, battling a delirium the fever has brought on. Some helpful soul has taken it upon themselves to get Rafa cleaned up and into a somewhat presentable state. The stains of dirt and grime are gone, his hair is damp from being rinsed out and no longer has that greasy, stringy look about itself and he is in a clean, hospital issued gown. He might look… cleaner, but only marginally better.  
  
His skin color is still ashen, though it seems to be a little better now – probably due to the multitude of medication and nutrition running it's way through his system. It does little to make Mari feel any better. With the array of medical monitoring equipment and all it’s tubes and wires, with the multitude of IV lines and – most prominently – the light blue plastic breathing tube sticking out of her brother's mouth, Mari is sure Rafa must be in a world of pain. But his facial features are lax and so is the rest of his body. There is not even the slightest sign of discomfort... or any awareness for his surroundings at that. Still Maribel hates to see Rafa like this... and she fears for him.  
  
“Is he in pain?”  
  
“No. He’s completely oblivious. The fever and the sedatives take care of that.”  
  
“That’s good, right?”  
  
Maribel sounds hopeful and almost childlike in that moment. Carlos is about to tell her it very much depends on how one looks at this. But he doesn’t have the heart. He hasn’t seen Mari cry in a long time and having to deal with that has been hard... on both of them. Preying on an already fragile mind and soul now is simply not something he is willing to do. He wants her to be okay, even if that means lying to her... or sugarcoating the truth at least.  
  
“Probably.”

They stay silent for a while after that, both of them staring through the window and to the prone and unmoving form of their friend and family member. Maribel is taking shaky breaths and then she finally announces how she feels about seeing her brother like this. She sounds... surprised and Carlos can't keep doing this any more. Maybe it is better this way – shielding her like this – but in the end, if things turn into the disaster Dr. Alvaro has already predicted – he wants Mari to be prepared. He has to stop pretending and he needs to make her understand the harsh reality they are in right now.  
  
“Look at him... He looks so... fragile.”  
  
“He is, Mari. There is very little that keeps him here at the moment. And even the tiniest complication will send him into a downward spiral he simply cannot recover from. You... you should always keep that in mind.”  
  
“What are you saying?! That there is no hope?! That I have finally been reunited with my brother only to lose him again?!”

She is angry with him now, but Carlos is prepared for this. Being the bearer of bad news, giving the message of impending doom – it is never appreciated by anyone. But Mari needs to hear this. She needs to accept the facts for what they are. And it is a simple fact of life that Rafa is in a precarious situation and that is putting it mildly. He is sick and he can't take much more of this... There is a very real possibility this whole rescue mission will be in vain and as painful and scary as that is, it is better to accept than to deny.

“That's a very real possibility.”  
  
“How can you be so calm about this?! That simply isn't fair or right!”  
  
“I know it isn’t. And I hate it. But how I feel about this doesn’t change the facts. I’ve seen his injuries up close, Mari and so have you. We know how desperately sick he is. Pretending anything else, is simply… wrong. And it’s bound to hurt even worse if… things don’t turn out as we hope.”

“But we saved him!”

It's a first time in years Mari actually sounds a lot younger than she is. It's almost like having found her brother has made her regress to the angry and very much immature woman she had still been eleven years ago. She had barely been an adult then and she has grown since then. But right now she is simply furious about the unfairness of it all... and Carlos cannot even blame her for it. She is right after all – having her brother back only to – potentially - lose him again is neither okay nor fair to her. He hates to crush her hopes yet again, but as he has set out to ground Mari in reality – a very harsh reality at that – he tries to stay on the path.  
  
“No. Not yet. And maybe we never will.”  
  
“Stop being so damn pessimistic!”

Mari's anger was bound to turn against him at some point, Carlos has expected as much. But the younger woman is completely misinterpreting what he is trying to tell her. For once this is not about her brother's injuries and his very poor chances at survival. For once this is actually Carlos being optimistic and believing that Rafa will indeed recover and wake up. The very important question that still stays however is – what then? Even if Rafa makes a recovery to the fullest of his potential... what is there really left? They don't know that and it seems Mari hasn't even thought about that yet.  
  
“This is not about him being sick and injured and his chances being low. Even if he gets better… You know what he has been through? Dr. Alvaro told you?”  
  
“Yes, a little…”  
  
“Going through that. Being forced to live like this, being… used like this. How much of your brother do you believe is truly still left?”

The emotions that flash across the younger woman's face are hard to read and even harder to deal with. There is a whole array of them – from shock to disbelieve to sadness and fear and finally there is defiance. She remembers her brother as he used to be, of course she does, and that memory makes it pretty much impossible for her to believe her brother would ever give up. It simply hasn't been in his nature back in the day. It is what has made him the successful professional athlete he has been, it's what has made him tell all the world what he is and accept the consequences... But after a decade of abuse and humiliation... Carlos expects no fight or pride to be left. And that as well is something Maribel needs to accept.  
  
“I don’t know. But I’d like to find out. Scars can heal… And we can help him! We have to help! It’s our damn responsibility! Our duty as friends and family.”  
  
“I know that. And I'm willing to do my part. I... I'm just not sure we can be of any use to him...”

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She sounds a lot like Scarlet O'Hara quoting one of the most famous lines from 'Gone with the Wind' - “I won't think about this today, I'll think about it tomorrow”. Just that they aren't talking about tomorrow here, because tomorrow will bring no changes for Rafa. The only difference a day can make... is a negative one. But for her brother to get better - it will take time. And maybe, just maybe, Maribel is right after all. Maybe things will turn out fine. Maybe Rafa recovers. Maybe he is even still... Rafa, when he wakes up. Or maybe not. Only time will tell.


	7. Roger & Carlos

It's late when Roger finally finds both the strength and the courage to leave his office. He has been locked away in here all day. Trying to digest. He hasn't really been successful. Mainly he has been going back and forth between disbelieve and complete and utter panic. Being alone has not been helpful for him, but it's the only solution he could come up with. Even the thought of facing somebody on the outside world, after Antoine had told him about Rafa, had simply been too much.

He had more than a dozen missed calls on his cell phone – from his wife, from Anthea, who probably has leaned on Antoine a bit to tell him how the mission went, from Stefanos and from a couple of other members on staff. He doesn't plan on answering any of them, just like he has unplugged his office's phone and has not reacted to anyone knocking on his door. He has needed this, has needed time and even now he isn't sure how he feels.

Rafa is alive... It's a truth Roger has always hoped for, has wished for ever since Rafa has first disappeared. But now that it has come to pass, he is faced with the bitter realization that – at some point during those last eleven years – he has given up hope. He hasn't believed in a chance for a return any more. Deep down he had known Rafa was dead, probably had been for a while and that there was no chance for them to ever reunite. And now his whole belief system has been thrown upside down. Because he has been wrong for years and years on end now. There always has been hope... and Rafa has always been there.

It's what hurts the most. The knowledge that there would have been a chance to find him if only Roger had used his resources differently. Every omega the charity has helped over the years suddenly doesn't mean as much to him. Of course he is still proud of their accomplishments. But he is disgusted with himself at the same time. All those resources, all that money and all that time... to save strangers. It could have been spend so much better. Used to save Rafa... but they hadn't done that – not until now.

And even in knowing about the clinic in Spain, Roger had failed Rafa – again. Anthea had told him about this clinic more than a month ago, but she had advised caution and Roger had listened to her. If only they had acted sooner, if only he had sent the team to Spain earlier. Rafa could be back safely with them for weeks now. Maybe he wouldn't be as desperately ill as he is right now... The thought of having allowed for Rafa to go through even one unnecessary day of pain and misery and humiliation, while he had been sitting here, playing on the side of caution and making idle plans for the response team, it pains Roger in a way that makes his heart ache and his chest feel like it's being compressed... This is his fault – again.

It is why he doesn't blame Maribel for not wanting him anywhere near her brother. To the younger woman this must seem like a cosmic joke. Roger has known she hadn't wanted to accompany the response team, that she had only done it to make amends because of the incident with Leo... To her it must seem like he has known and has sent her to punish her. Of course she couldn't be further from the truth. Had Roger known, Rafa would have been safe months and months ago. But he can understand Maribel's thought process...

But despite the younger woman's disdain and her fierce insistence for him to stay away, Roger cannot do that either. He has lost Rafa just like Maribel, has mourned and cried for him and has always tried to hold onto hope. This is as much a miracle to him as it is to her. And it is as much painful to him as it is to her. These last few hours have probably been the hardest of his life – apart from the first few days after the police had given up the search for Rafa maybe... Then the younger man had been lost to Roger. Now he is found... and Roger needs to see for himself.

The main office space is empty when he leaves and he can only hope the same will hold true for the clinic. It's almost ten in the evening and Maribel has had a long and exhausting day. A grueling day. Roger can only hope Dr. Alvaro – or somebody else on staff – has sent her home. It's his only chance to get so much as a glimpse at Rafa. Because if Maribel is still there, he needs to steer clear. The last either of them needs, is a fight. Rafa needs them... and that is all their energy should be focused on right now.

Luckily for him, the clinic lies as quietly and abandoned as the main office across the street. Administration and reception are no longer staffed, but there is probably a rudimentary night crew around. Roger just needs to find one of them and get them to help him out, tell him where Rafa is and have them take him to him. He wanders the corridors aimlessly until he remembers Dr. Alvaro's office – to which he has been with his daughter not too long ago – and decides to check there. Maybe the physician is still in the building.

It isn't Dr. Alvaro Roger bumps into and he never even makes it to the other man's office. Climbing the staircase to the second floor where the doctor's office is, Carlos comes his way from the opposite direction. Stopping in his tracks on the landing of the staircase, Carlos gives him a look that is somewhere between confusion... and disdain. It's not exactly a surprising reaction. Roger has known about Rafa for half a day now, but he has chosen to hide himself away instead of coming here. 

Of course Carlos doesn't like that. Carlos has been here this whole time and so has Maribel. It would have been the right thing to do. But there are exceeding circumstances and even though Roger in no way owes Carlos an explanation or an apology, he wants the older man to understand. He's on the verge of a rather severe emotional breakdown anyway – knowing what he knows and still having a hard time believing any of it – and the last thing he needs right now is any negativity thrown his way. Seeing Rafa – sick and injured - will be hard enough...

“Roger...”

“Carlos, hi...”

“You're here for Rafa?”

“Yes. I... Antoine told me.”

“You took your time...”

Carlos isn't even trying to hide what is bothering him about Roger showing up at the hospital. He is quite blunt and there is not even an attempt of hiding how he feels about Roger's decision to show up here now – spending half a day doing... god knows what. There is real reproach to Carlos' voice and he doesn't look very much interested in continuing this conversation. Quite frankly Roger has no idea why he cares so much. Carlos isn't his friend, he isn't family and he could care less what the older man thinks of him. But he does care... and he needs Carlos to understand. This has not been selfishness or fear... it has been the exact opposite... and maybe a tiny bit of fear after all. 

“I would have come earlier but I... I couldn't. She... she isn't still around, is she?”

“Who?”

“Maribel.”

“No. I send her over to the safe house. She needed the rest. I wanted her to go home but she didn't want to leave... So we agreed on a compromise and she took an empty room and hopefully she will get a bit of sleep.”

Roger nods slowly at that. He hasn't expected any less of Rafa's sister. The very fact that Carlos has managed to coax Maribel into leaving her brother's bedside only goes to show how much she trusts the older man and relies on his support. It's good that she has that. Roger isn't quite sure who will be his support through all this. Even the thought of telling Mirka about Rafa makes his stomach twist into knots. That will be one fun conversation... But maybe it doesn't have to be family that helps him through. Maybe a friend will do... or maybe even a colleague. Maybe someone like Carlos... 

“Good. That's... good. The last thing I want is to upset her even more. But I couldn't stay away. I need to see... I need to make sure.”

“I was about to leave, but... Come on. I'll take you.”

“Thanks you, that's considerate of you.”

Carlos simply shrugs. He is obviously tired and exhausted and Roger cannot blame him for that. Today must been a hard day for the Mallorcan as well. He knows Rafa longer than Roger does and even though there have never been any romantic feelings involved, Carlos is probably as close to family as he ever could be. For Roger things are different. The whole circumstances of Rafa's disappearance and the ugly fight they have had before has made it so. But right now, Carlos seems very much willing to leave the past in the past. Still the silence between them is awkward as Roger follows the older man and he tries to fill it.

“How is he?”

“Not good.”

It's a vague answer and a slightly dismissive one. Of course Carlos hasn't forgiven him and it's not like Roger has expected that. He simply wants to feel... comfortable doing this. It's wishful thinking, he knows that. Antoine hasn't told him much, but he has been clear enough on the facts, which are that Rafa is barely hanging on to life. Roger has no idea what exactly that means. He can only assume it means nothing good and that being confronted with the younger man after 11 years of believing him lost and dead will be hard... Carlos has lead Roger back up to the fourth floor of the clinic, where the critical care unit is. He lets them in, greets the nurse at the station in charge of the night shift and walks Roger down the corridor, stopping in front of the viewing windows of one of the patient rooms. The gesture Carlos makes is vague but unmistakable. They have reached their destination. Roger looks. 

He has no idea what he has expected but this is far worse than even his most vivid imagination has been able to come up with. The person in the room looks nothing like Rafa... Maybe, just maybe there is a tiny bit of resemblance left, but that actually makes matters worse. Seeing something of Rafa in this person only makes the horrors the Spaniard has gone through all the more real and potent. Roger feels like he is rooted to the spot. He can't get himself to move, can't avert his eyes, can't do much of anything but whisper in horror as he tries to make sense of what he sees, tries to connect the pale, gaunt, unmoving person in that hospital bed with the man he once knew and loved. He can't. It's simply too much to ask of him. 

“No... Oh no...”

“I know this is hard...”

“What did they do to him...”

“I can get Dr. Alvaro if you like? He can explain.”

Roger nods solemnly even though being left alone while Carlos gets the doctor is the last thing he wants. He isn't even sure what is worse. Seeing Rafa like this – unconscious, with all that monitoring equipment surrounding him, in need of half a dozen different medications and unable to breathe on his own... or the thought of him actually waking up. Of course that is not going to happen – not with him in this condition... But still Roger does not want to stand here all alone. He is sure Carlos could tell him just the same, but he does understand that the older man doesn't want to. For him, this is all just as hard as it is for Roger...

It takes almost 20 minutes before Dr. Alvaro and Carlos return to him, but to Roger it feels a lot longer. Even now – looking at Rafa the entire time, trying to take in every last detail about him, Roger simply can't get used to the sight. Rafa looks so damn vulnerable, it seems like a miracle he is even still here... Roger knows he should be grateful for that. But all he feels is dread... and an unadulterated hate towards the people responsible. 

He cannot even begin to understand how anyone could treat a fellow human being like this... let alone somebody like Rafa. Even though a lot of his memories of the past are bitter ones, it has mostly been him doing things wrong. Mostly he remembers Rafa as gentle and patient and kind... innocent almost. Definitely not deserving of any of the things that have happened to him. But this is what it is... and Roger can only hope and pray for the younger man to recover. So when Dr. Alvaro comes to talk to him, that is exactly what he wants to know. 

“Will he be okay?”

“I wouldn't know about okay, but he's alive now and he is stable. Critical, but stable.”

“And that is a good thing?”

Roger can't help the tremble to his voice. Critical but stable doesn't exactly sound promising to him, but Dr. Alvaro makes it seem like a good thing. Or maybe he has just misinterpreted things. Because right now the doctor takes his time, weighs the words he is about to say. That isn't something he usually does. Usually he is quite blunt when it comes to his patient's chances. But then again he has never dealt with Roger in the capacity of patient loved one before. Usually he simply reports to him in his function as head of the charity. Now everything is different... and Dr. Alvaro is a lot more guarded. 

“It really is too early to tell. We have to give the medication time to work. It'll be two to three more days before I can give you a definitive answer.”

“But you must be able to give a prognosis?!”

“It's... not good at the moment. He's very weak and there is an enormous amount of strain on his system – his already weakened system. But if the medication works and if there are no complications... he has a chance.”

“A chance sounds good.”

Dr. Alvaro simply nods at that and Roger decides to take it as a good sign. He knows the physician long enough to trust him not to... sugarcoat things. Despite the fact that Rafa looks so damn fragile he is about to break any second, Dr. Alvaro gives him a chance at survival. Roger takes the win... A million other questions still swirl through his mind. What is the extent of Rafa's injuries? What has he been going through all this time? How... damaged will all of that leave him? But Roger doesn't ask any of those. Dr. Alvaro gives Rafa a chance at survival and Roger is here to see the younger man through. For the moment that is all he needs. 

“Can I stay here a little longer?”

“Of course. Just stay out here.”

“Yes, yes I will. I wouldn't want to risk hurting him... or losing him. I can't lose him... Not again.”

Roger sounds solemn and determined and even though his voice is thick with emotion, neither Dr. Alvaro nor Carlos comment on it. Carlos especially is most definitely able to relate to how Roger feels. He would never be able to live with himself if having Rafa back would be... in vain. He needs for the younger man to be okay, to wake up... He needs a chance to look into Rafa's soft brown eyes again, needs a chance to talk to him, needs to apologize... Not getting that chance – Roger is sure it will break him... and the rest of Rafa's friends and family here along with him.

His gaze is transfixed on the room and Rafa in that hospital bed again, so much so, that Roger doesn't even realize Carlos and Dr. Alvaro are walking away from him. He is oblivious to Carlos' sour expression just the same. It is not until they are out of earshot that Carlos addresses Dr. Alvaro... and accuses him of having wronged Roger, having treated him different from Maribel. Carlos doesn't like that one bit. Roger might not be Carlos' favorite person in the world - but just like Maribel... and himself for that matter – the Swiss deserves to know the whole, harsh, hard to accept truth. Which is that Rafa may not live through this. But Dr. Alvaro has chosen to keep that fact to himself. 

“You lied to him...”

“I did not lie. I relayed the facts. I refrained from stating my opinion.”

“You shouldn't have done this... He has his hopes up now. He's hoping and from everything you told me those hopes will be crushed. Doing that to him is just cruel...”

Dr. Alvaro is frowning at him in response and Carlos isn't quite sure what that is all about. As it turns out the physician is very much surprised at the change of heart Carlos has been having, ever since he has first laid eyes on Rafa today. But it's been a long, exhausting, brutal day and having been there first hand and having read Dr. Alvaro's reports as well as the stats of Rafa's vital signs noted in his chart, Carlos simply can't hold on to his initial rather naive believe, that Rafa will fight his way back to them. Somehow it seems what he is no longer able to do, is exactly what Dr. Alvaro has internalized. Carlos is getting his very own words fed back to him, but that doesn't help. He has been confident before... But the harsh truth of reality has very much caused for his confidence and believe in Rafa to go up in flames.   
  
“You yourself said your friend is a fighter.”  
  
“I know I did. That was before I had a chance to take a proper look at him... I was… overwhelmed when you asked me to help and all I did get a chance to look at before my senses finked out on me, was that severely infected surgical wound… I took a proper look now – at him, at the charts, at your own report. Even the fact that he’s here, that he made it this far? It shouldn’t be possible… As much as I hope and wish for it and as much as I have faith in him… How much fight can there be left?”

“I know it looks bad, but from a medical point of view... it could be worse.”  
  
“How could any of this be worse?!”

“He could be dead.”

It's a harsh statement but Carlos can't bring himself to call Dr. Alvaro out on it. There is something darker, even harsher crossing his mind and he is simply too tired and exhausted to put any kind of filter on what his mind comes up with anymore. The words are out before he knows it and they do sound awful, even to his own ears. But there is a certain sad and macabre truth to them... It's just like with people in the end stages of a terminal disease... Sometimes a clean cut is better than the alternative... Surprisingly enough Dr. Alvaro doesn't want to hear anything about it. 

“Maybe that wouldn't be worse. Maybe that would be a mercy...”

“Carlos, what did I tell you on the very first day we met?”

“Every life is precious...”

The memory is vivid in Carlos' mind and he actually has to smile thinking about it now. It had been his very first time having a shift at the critical care unit and they were taking care of a patient – an omega – who had both her legs broken weeks before, without proper treatment. One of the breaks had been an open compound fracture, the other a multitude of splintered breaks with the skin intact. She had jumped from a multi story building trying to escape her captors... In the end she had lost both legs beyond the knee and back then Carlos had stated the very same thing he does now – that maybe death is a mercy sometimes. Dr. Alvaro had scolded him softly then, just as he does now. That patient had lived... and it seems Dr. Alvaro has developed the same hope for Rafa. He is smiling at Carlos – a soft, small but confident smile. 

“Don't give up on that now.”


	8. Sascha & Stefanos

The sickly sweet smell of rot and death is so close, so invasive, so... thick, Sascha is sure he will simply choke on it any second now. Thank god he isn't alone... This horrible basement with the rotting dead in it is awful enough as it is but if he were here all alone, it would be a hundred times worse... It would be terrifying. But the response team is here and they are calm and collected and professional. Seasoned veterans doing an awful job, but knowing how to deal with it – out of necessity and experience.

Then of course there is Maribel, but she is of no real use. She's probably not even aware of the death and sheer nastiness of the corpses just a few feet away from them. Her sole focus is on the third omega in the room – the one she has identified as her brother. Keeping the focus on him is not a whole lot better, because he is in a desolate state himself. But at least he is still alive and breathing... That is definitely better than staring at those bloated corpses with the skin ripe to burst.. 

So he shifts his focus and tries to keep his breathing shallow and short. It's not the best of plans, but with that thick, foul stench in the air, there isn't enough air in the room anyway. It's almost like it's flickering and shifting around around them. Almost like water... Of course that is nonsense, Sascha knows that, but still that is what it looks like to him. He closes his eyes for just a second, shaking his head and willing this disturbing figment of his imagination away. 

When he opens his eyes again everything around him is different. The flickering is gone, but so is any warmth and the lights seem to have dimmed as well. But that is not the worst of it. The worst of it hits him with a couple seconds delay and when he does indeed realize it, panic settles in and threatens to overwhelm him. He's suddenly all alone in the room. The response team, Maribel, even her brother – they are all gone. Only the two corpses are left in the room with him...

His heart clenches painfully in his chest and his breathing picks up. That can't be right... The whole response team has been here just a second ago! They can't all have disappeared... He has only been distracted for a second! And Maribel and especially her brother cannot have gone either. He has been delirious and very much unconscious just a second ago! He cannot have gotten up and just left the room. It's impossible.

But as it turns out, the fact that he is alone with the two dead omegas in the room is not the worst of it. When he turns to take a look at the whole room, he realizes the door is closed. Maybe he is missing time for some reason. Maybe this is some sick joke the response team is playing on him... Maybe they are standing right outside that door and will call him an idiot for falling for their shenanigans. But it's way, way worse. Because when he walks over – avoiding to even so much as glance at the corpses he inevitably has to walk by – and tries the handle, the door is not only closed, but locked.

He is locked in this basement room all alone, with two stinking corpses rotting away right behind him and no chance to call for help or backup... He has no cell phone on him – because Antoine, the head of the team – has insisted on that and there is nobody around any more. The panic is bubbling up again as Sascha tries the door handle again, more forcefully this time. But the door won't budge. He is trapped...

His hands ball into fists and for just a second there, Sascha allows his emotions to take over as he hits both fists against the metal door repeatedly. It's of no use. The door doesn't open and nobody is coming to help him. He's all alone. And he needs to figure out a way to get out of this mess, out of this stinking hell hole of a mausoleum all on his own. He is smart and he is determined. He can do this. After all the door is not the only way out of his room. He has noticed that when first stepping in. There are skylights shedding light. Maybe that will be his escape. 

Before he can ever turn to take a look at the windows high above, a groaning sound can be heard somewhere behind him and Sascha stops dead in his tracks, his blood running cold. There are only two more... things in the room with him, but they can't make a sound anymore. They are dead and that is a definitive fact. But there is a groaning and it definitely comes from the direction of the two dead omegas. Sascha takes a shaky breath. He doesn't want to turn around, doesn't want to see but he knows that he has to. He needs to face the threat presenting itself.

He turns around abruptly and half expects to look into a half rotten face of one of the dead omegas suddenly standing right behind him. But of course that doesn't happen. This is reality after all – not some horror show. His overactive mind is simply playing tricks on him... The groaning sound appears again and this time Sascha is sure it has come from one of the two corpses. But there could be a logical explanation for that. After all they have been dead for a while and they are pretty damn... ripe. 

Maybe putrid gases are escaping somehow. Maybe that is what is causing the sounds. It's disgusting and sickening, but it is a completely logical explanation. He is in no immediate danger. But he is in a godawful situation and he very much wants to escape it. Gathering all the courage he can come up with he takes a step away from the door and towards the skylights. He has to ignore what his emotionally overwhelmed mind is trying to make him see. He will be okay... He just needs to get out of this damn grave...

Sascha never takes a second step forward. The sound appears again but this time it is not the only thing that happens. His eyes are transfixed on the two corpses. They are twitching. It's not a lot, just a bit, just fingers moving ever so slightly. But there definitely is movement and that simply cannot be explained by putrid gases or some sort of electrical misfiring. These two people have been dead for weeks. The cannot move. But he has seen it, he is sure of it... 

He can't look away, can't focus on the windows instead, because he is too damn terrified. Somewhere – way in the back of his mind where rational thought still prevails – Sascha is sure this is all just his imagination. Which is why he looks at the two dead omegas so intently now. The room is suddenly eerily silent, no more groaning, and it seems to have turned colder for some inexplicable reason. He stares, he blinks and the he sees it again... 

Sascha takes a step back and his back hits the cold, hard, unbudging metal door. There is nowhere for him to go, no place to escape to. His breathing – shallow and quick and on the edge of hyperventilating already – picks up the pace yet again as he stares at the two corpses, from which the sounds have emanated. He is not imagining things. The fingers of the dead omega to the left – grayish, putrid and skeletal – are twitching. And then the right corpse moves... Sascha screams.

*#*

Somebody is shaking his shoulder violently and even though Sascha is already half aware of the fact, that he is lying horizontally and is being covered by a blanket, which means he is most definitely in bed, his very first instinct tells him to fight that hold on his shoulder that is keeping him down. He struggles, lashes out and hits something solid. Very close by there is a grunt more of surprise than of pain and then a slightly annoyed voice tells him to snap out of it in no uncertain terms. 

“Sascha wake up!”

He does - wakes with a gasp and sits up abruptly in bed. It takes another moment before Sascha realizes he is in his bedroom, he is safe and Stefanos – whom he has asked to stay and who has been sleeping on the couch in the living room – is right there in front of him, hand still on his shoulder, other hand rubbing at his collarbone, looking completely concerned. It takes another moment for the German to realize that the solid mass he has hit must have been the Greek.

Sascha feels very much guilty at that, because hurting Stefanos has been the last thing he has wanted. The whole damn nightmare he has had about that clinic's basement in Spain has been so vivid, so real, he hasn't even been aware he was dreaming until Stefanos has tried to wake him. He probably has been screaming in terror in his sleep just as he has in his dream. No wonder Stefanos has come running to check on him. It explains the deeply worried look on his face.

Right now Sascha is more concerned with the fact that he has hit the younger man though. He only half remembers it, the reaction having been one born out of instinct but he is deeply sorry for it, especially given the fact that Stefanos is still rubbing the sore spot on his collarbone and the surrounding skin has turned an angry red already. Sascha definitely hasn't put enough punch into his fight reaction to hurt Stefanos seriously, but his ministrations will definitely leave a bruise... He looks at the younger man both with worry and apology shining clearly in his eyes. 

“I... I hurt you. I'm so sorry...”

“It's okay. I'll be fine. Are you okay?”

Sascha nods before he has actually thought the answer to Stefanos' question through. Quite honestly he isn't sure he is actually fine. That nightmare has been bad and it has left him deeply rattled. He has rarely ever experienced anything so vivid in any dream he has had. And above the fear he has felt, he is deeply embarrassed that Stefanos has been witness to such a weak moment. Sascha must have sounded like a terrified child, screaming in his dreams like that... 

It has been hard enough to convince Stefanos to stay already. After their movie – and a bit of food after all, because Sascha had felt sufficiently calm and up to the task of eating after all – Stefanos had wanted to go home. But Sascha had insisted for the Greek to stay, had told him it was late already, had told him there was no use for him to travel halfway across the city at night and that the couch in his living room was very much comfortable. It was a courtesy repaid to that time Stefanos had set him up after the omega from London had died... Sascha had used every last argument in his arsenal and in the end Stefanos had relented... only to be witness to Sascha's weakness during the night... 

Sascha really doesn't want to talk about the contents of his dreams. Talking about them would make them feel way more real than Sascha ever wanted them to. But he can't very well ignore Stefanos' question about his well-being and he doesn't want to lie to the younger man either. So Sascha simply hopes Stefanos won't pry, respecting his privacy. That – however – is a wish made in vain, because of course Stefanos is not only worried, he is also curious. 

“A nightmare. Just a nightmare...”

“Sounded bad... ”

“It was and I just couldn't shake it, couldn't get out...”

“What did you... dream about?”

Sascha could lie of course, but what would be the use in that? If he has learned one thing about the Greek over the course of all the weeks he has spent here in Paris already, it is that Stefanos appreciates honesty. And talking about it might actually help. Of course it will make the nightmare more real but it will also unveil it for what it is – nothing more than a bad dream conjured up by his overly stressed mind and emotions trying to work through the horrors of this day... There is no shame in that and Sascha knows for a fact that he can trust Stefanos.

“It wasn't really a dream. It was a memory at first – entering the room with the response team. And then it changed. I was alone all of a sudden and then those bloated, stinking corpses started to move...”

“That sounds awful... I'm so sorry.”

“This isn't your fault.”

They have had this discussion earlier already, with Stefanos blaming himself for having allowed for Sascha to go on that mission with the response team. Sascha had told him then, that he has no part of the blame that the German had to go through this awful experience and he is telling him again now. He could probably tell Stefanos another thousand times, but the Greek will feel responsible none the less. After all he has been the one to make this possible for Sascha. But the German is shaken and he needs reassurance right now, not a fight. So this is not an argument to have again right this moment. Stefanos can however offer Sascha additional help, more than he could ever give himself.

“Maybe you should talk to somebody...”

“I'm talking to you.”

“I mean somebody qualified. A therapist or something... We have counselors for the response team. They use their help after particularly... awful missions. Maybe you should too?”

Sascha starts shaking his head before Stefanos has ever even finished the suggestion. Obviously the thought of talking to a therapist – a stranger at that – is even worse than the nightmares, though Stefanos has no idea why Sascha is so against it. He himself has used the help of one of those therapists on a couple of occasions whenever things with his family have been particularly rough. Of course Sascha can do the same. The German actually has an explanation ready for his rejection. But it is a pretty stupid one at that. 

“I'm not part of the team.”

“But you're a part of their experience. Please, Sascha?”

“I'll think about it.”

They both know it is deflection, mainly to get Stefanos to shut up about the whole topic. There is no real conviction in Sascha's words and the younger Greek is pretty sure Sascha will not think about his proposal and he most definitely will not listen to Stefanos. He will try to battle through this on his own. Because he is alpha – he's supposed to be strong and independent. And despite everything Sascha has learned and experienced since coming here, fighting his very own nature – even if it could help him – is not something he seems willing or able to do. For the moment Stefanos can accept that. For the moment he can try to be enough for Sascha to feel better. But if the German does indeed get worse, he is willing to make this argument again. For now he tries to be a good friend. 

“Is there anything I can get you? Water maybe?”

“I don't want to be alone...”

Stefanos is completely aware of what Sascha's statement entails, but he doesn't want to give into it. Not that easily after all. Sascha has already made him stay – against his own wishes. And though that has turned out to be a good thing, because this way Stefanos has been able to break the hold that awful nightmare has had on Sascha, he is definitely not ready to play babysitter and night watch for the German. He motions to get up and points to the door, giving Sascha a soft, guarded smile. 

“I'm right next door...”

“No! No... Please, Stef? Please just stay...”

Sascha knows he is acting like a petulant child scared of the dark with his pleading voice and his puppy dog eyes. But he has managed to convince Stefanos of doing something he hasn't wanted to earlier, making him stay the night. Maybe he can convince the younger man again... Stefanos indeed doesn't want to, doesn't want to be this close, this intimate with the slightly older German. But Sascha isn't asking out of any ulterior motive. He asks because he is scared. Stefanos sighs, giving up on his reluctance, but making the ground rules he sets abundantly clear. 

“Scoot over. And if you snore or put your hands in inappropriate places, I will leave.”

“Thanks, Stef...”


	9. Maribel & Stefanos

There hasn’t been time yet – time to stop, time to think, time to actually wrap her head around the facts. When she is alone in one of the empty rooms at the safe house, with her brother only an adjacent building away, Mari finally has that time. It's not a good thing. Not by a long shot. Because now – with the adrenaline draining out of her and the sheer gravity of this whole situation – Mari is at a loss as to what to do next. Her brother is alive... and that changes everything.

There are so many things for her to do, things to consider, things to take care of. From something as mundane as making sure Rafa will have a decent set of pajamas and a toothbrush at his disposal once he is better and awake again, to the very fact that her brother has been declared dead over a year ago... He has no passport, no driver's license, no estate to speak of any more, because everything has been liquidated and split up when they had been able to finally make his – supposed – death official. Which means he does have a death certificate... Somehow that is awfully macabre...

But it isn't even the worst part of it all. The worst is the fact, that there is a whole family out there, that has been struggling to move on for over a decade now. They had been on a good path these last couple of weeks – especially her and her parents – and now Maribel needs to tell them, that they have been wrong all this time. That trying to accept Rafa's death is the last thing they ever should have done. And she has to tell them, that even now that they have him back, there is a chance they will lose him.

She can't do that. She cannot call her mother and tell her how sick Rafa is at the moment. She cannot tell her there is a real chance she will have to go through the whole painful grieving process a second time. There is no mercy in that... and no fairness. Mari doesn't want to do it. Not until Dr. Alvaro is sure how Rafa will progress. And somewhere – hidden deep in the back of her mind – Mari debates not calling at all if Rafa takes a turn for the worse. There is nothing good that can come of that. Only more pain... and they have had enough of that to last for a lifetime.

Of course she feels guilty for even the thought arising. Lying to her family, not giving them a chance at a proper goodbye, hiding Rafa's return to them away... It's wrong. But so is this whole, damn, messed up situation. Everything is all wrong! Her brother should be fine! He never should have gone through any of this in the first place! But she can't change the past. She does – however – have a chance at a better future. Hopefully. Maybe.

It is only now that she feels a little calmer, a little more able to process, that she realizes what a godawful day this has been. Not just because of Rafa, but because of everything else. There had been other omegas in that basement room with her brother... Dead omegas. Hideously disfigured corpses stinking of death and decay... The smell only occurs to her now again and somehow, it seems to linger. So Mari decides to take a shower and then a second one and then she tries to lie down in bed.

She can't sleep – not for the longest of times. The whole terrible day plays out in her mind again and again in every last detail and with a vividness that is very hard to tolerate. At some point she does fall asleep – more from exhaustion than because she is actually tired. Her sleep is dreamless, but fitful and when she wakes again, the sun is barely even up yet and she doesn't feel rested one bit. But it's a new day dawning and nobody has come to wake her up over the course of the night. It's a new day and her brother is still there, still fighting, still clinging to life. For the moment, that is the best Mari can hope for.

She takes a lukewarm shower, hoping for it to wake her up sufficiently, but it doesn't really work. It comes as no surprise. Water alone can't cure the way she feels. And it cannot wash away the anxiousness or the lingering feeling of guilt. Eleven years... She has left her brother to fend for himself in that hellhole back in Barcelona for eleven years... She and countless other people who had claimed never to give up looking for him. None of them had kept their promises.

Mari pushes the thought aside and goes in search for coffee instead. A mundane task like her morning coffee seems safe enough... There is nobody at the staff lounge a floor up, where it's 'staff members only' for the safe house. And there is no fresh pot of coffee brewed. As it turns out there is a simple reason for that. Somebody put new coffee powder on the shopping list at their refrigerator pad... but nobody has gone to get it yet. Mari sighs a sigh somewhere between frustration and acceptance.

“Figures...”

“Do you need a hero?”

Mari abruptly turns around and finds herself looking at Stefanos, who the voice belongs to, that has just been speaking to her. He stands in the doorway to the staff kitchen, bakery box in one hand and a coffee holder with two paper cups in the other and smiles at her widely. It's good to see him... and at the same time Mari dreads the confrontation. Because Stefanos is her friend and as her friend he will ask questions. But he also brings coffee... in the end necessity wins over her unwillingness to talk.

“Stef, morning.”

“Morning. I brought coffee and I actually found a donut shop on my way over here. Donuts in Paris... Somehow that seems entirely wrong. Here, take one.”

Stefanos opens up the lid of the box and holds it out to her for Mari to choose. The memory of the smell in that basement yesterday is suddenly, very vividly present in her mind and she loses all appetite. Not that she has had much to begin with. But the memory of that sickening smell of rot actually makes her quite a bit nauseous. She shakes her head at the younger man, trying not to let it shine through how rattled she feels by that awful memory.

“I'm not really hungry...”

“I don't remotely care if you're hungry. You probably haven't looked in a mirror up until now, but you look awful.”

He jumps right to it – no pretense, no more pleasantries and not even a shred of subtlety. Stefanos means well, Mari is sure of that. But she cannot appreciate his tone of voice or the fact that he is trying to take care of her. He can't even begin to understand what she is going through at the moment. If he did, he would know that coffee and a donut aren't remotely enough to make her feel better. Actually there isn't much of anything that can make her feel better – apart from her brother waking up and being okay... Stefanos' intervention angers her and it makes her react quite sarcastically.

“Thanks. How very charming of you.”

“I wasn't trying to be charming. I'm concerned.”

“I'll be fine.”

She refrains from adding that she will only be fine, if her brother will be as well. It's like they are linked, that she will be miserable as long as Rafa is. But Stefanos doesn't need to hear about this. Mari has the distinct feeling he cares more about her – and the German volunteer for that matter – than he does about her brother. Of course he does. After all she and Sascha are the Greek's friends. Rafa on the other hand, Stefanos doesn't have any connection to. If at all he feels for Maribel because she is anxious about her brother's condition. But it is her state of mind he cares about and he calls her out on it just as bluntly as he told her she doesn't look good before.

“You didn't go home all night, you probably barely slept and after a really horrible day yesterday, I'm pretty sure you're going to stick it out by your brother's bed side until some sympathetic nurse throws you out. How is any of that 'fine'?”

“I can't be by his side. No visitors. He's too sick for that. I would risk making the infection worse.”

“I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to...”

“You didn't know, Stef. It's okay. Give me that coffee. And anything in that pastry box of yours that has chocolate on it.”

Mari stops the young Greek from apologizing, before he can ever fully finish a sentence. She hasn't meant to show him up like this. After all he cannot know all the details about Rafa's current hospitalization. He hasn't asked about that. Realizing that his harsh words have hurt her, Stefanos looks pretty contrite. Mari tries for a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and makes a peace offering to the younger man. Stefanos isn't wrong after all. She is not fine by a long shot... and she can use that coffee and pastries. Hungry or not, sustenance will help her through this day.

Even though every instinct tells her to wolf down the donut and hurry with the coffee, she follows Stefanos' suggestion when the young Greek wants her to sit down at the table in the staff kitchen for their breakfast. All Mari wants is to go and see her brother as soon as possible. But Stefanos has made an effort to take care of her and the least he deserves is some of her time. It's not like she can do much for Rafa at the moment anyway. Staff at the clinic are taking care of him and they will be okay without her for five additional minutes. At least she hopes so...

The pastries are good, the coffee is hot and strong but Maribel can't appreciate either of those facts. The vivid memories of yesterday and the worry for her brother makes everything taste stale at best... But as little as she cares for the food, she does care about the good friend who has taken it upon himself to look out for her while she doesn't really do that for herself. But Stefanos doesn't look so good himself and somehow Maribel only realizes that now, as she takes a closer look at the younger man sitting opposite from her at the table.

Stefanos is pale – at least more than usual – and he looks pretty tired. Almost like his night has been not a whole lot better than hers. That however can be attributed to one night's bad sleep. But when Stefanos reaches over the table a little to pick up another one of the pastries from the box sitting between them, his shirt shifts a little and Mari can see a rather deep, blueish-purple bruise sitting right on his collarbone. It looks painful... and very much fresh.

“You have a bruise sticking out from underneath your shirt.”

“It's nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing.”

Stefanos' reaction is somewhere between a sigh and a growl. He sounds very much defensive and that is something Mari has rarely ever seen him do. At least not around her. But usually they are not in a situation where Stefanos tries to hide things from her and she is adamant to find out what it is. Because talking about whatever has caused the injury – or more so listening to Stefanos explain – that Mari can do. But the young Greek is not willing to oblige.

“Is this really the conversation you want to have? Me, my shirt and my bruise? Your brother is alive...”

“Your shirt and your bruise are easy, Stef. Everything else in my life right now? Not so much...”

“How is he? Your brother?”

Mari sighs deeply. She has just made it clear to Stefanos talking about this is difficult but it's not that the Greek is trying to coax her into anything... or means to hurt her. Mostly he is curious, which she cannot blame him for. Mari can only assume somebody on the response team has let Stefanos in on the results of the response team's mission. She is also sure he doesn't know any details. Maybe it's good that he asks – this way she doesn't have to go back to ICU alone...

“The same. They would have called me if anything had changed. Carlos promised me. I'll be on my way over there as soon as we're done here. Would you like to come?”

“Are you sure? I'm not family...”

“You're a good friend. To me that counts just as much as family.”

Stefanos smiles and nods in response, but it's a guarded and not very assured reaction. Mari understands. They are friends but this is a lot to ask. But it's not like Mari forces anything on the Greek. He can say no at any time and Maribel certainly will not blame him or be angry with him. After all this is her family and family is a sore topic for Stefanos to begin with. But he never pulls back, never doubts and actually is the first to get up. Mari is glad and happy for Stefanos' conviction and initiative. Hopefully he will not regret his choice afterwards. She has warned him... it will be difficult.

They leave for the clinic a couple of minutes later and Maribel is actually surprised – and a little proud – how well Stefanos seems to handle the fact that they are heading to ICU. She herself has a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She has only been gone for a couple of hours but still she feels anxious... and guilty because of it. The nurse at the station tells her that her brother has had an uneventful night though and that it's supposed to be a good thing. Unfortunately that's the only good news she has for Mari. Rafa's condition hasn't worsened, but it hasn't gotten any better either.

Dr. Alvaro will not be in for another hour for her to talk and discuss any available options with. Mari doesn't mind. She hasn't come here to talk to Dr. Alvaro anyway. She has come here to introduce Stefanos to her brother. Though – of course that's a pretty one sided affair for the time being. She can only pray for that to change... It's only as they walk down the corridor from the nurses' station that it occurs to Mari to prepare Stefanos a little. She has already seen her brother in his current, desolate condition. She knows what to expect. Stefanos does not...

“I should probably warn you... My brother's condition right now... is not exactly easy to see...”

“Yeah, I sort of know that already. Carlos told me.”

“When? Why?”

Mari is truly surprised by Stefanos' admission. As it turns out, he hasn't made the inquiry out of curiosity or for himself after all. He has done it to ease somebody else's curiosity... Quite honestly Maribel has managed to already forget about the fact, that their German volunteer has been part of the team... Her whole focus has been very much limited to her brother since yesterday afternoon – as it should be. But – of course – she is not the only one affected by yesterday's events. She has however not given it much thought up until now.

“I called here yesterday evening and Carlos told me how your brother was doing. Sascha asked me to. He wanted me to check in...”

“Why would he care? He doesn't know Rafa.”

“Neither do I, but I'm here now too. Anyway, I don't think it was really about your brother, though Sascha did meet him at a tournament once upon a time over a decade ago. But this was more about making sure something good came of that disaster of a mission he decided to join... Still wish I could have stopped him, but it's too late to worry about that now...”

There is something Stefanos isn't telling her, obviously something about his relationship with the slightly older German. But Mari doesn't pry – at least not too much. At the moment she really cannot be expected or bothered to deal with any other problems but her own. She is already struggling to come to terms with those... She is however aware of the fact, that Stefanos has not spent the evening – and possibly the night – at his own apartment. Maybe that is exactly what the younger Greek is not telling her. That this friendship he and the German have developed is about to turn into something else, something more. Or Mari is completely on the wrong track. At the moment she is not exactly sure about much of anything when it comes to her own thinking and emotions.

“You were with him yesterday?”

“I went to check on him and ended up staying. He didn't want to be alone.”

“Ah.”

She doesn't comment but she doesn't have to. Her tone of voice says it all and she really wishes she would have put a filter on that. Because judging from the expression on Stefanos' face, he really doesn't need or appreciate her input. They don't pick up the discussion again, because they have reached the viewing window of Rafa's room and Mari can hear the younger man gasp softly right next to her. She understands. She herself still has a hard time seeing her brother like this and she has been there when they had first found him... They stand together in silence for a while before Stefanos is the first to speak up again. His voice sounds a little hoarse but he is very much able to articulate himself... despite the disconcerting sight of Maribel's severely ill and unconscious brother.

“You know... I realized I never even met him. This is the very first time...”

“He looks nothing like himself...”

“But he will, right? Eventually?”

Stefanos focuses his gaze on her, looking at her expectantly while he waits for Mari to answer. She doesn't repay him the courtesy but keeps her own eyes fixed on her brother. The nurse has been right. Nothing about Rafa's condition has changed. Maybe it won't ever... or maybe it will turn a way nobody around here wants it to. But it could... Finally Maribel looks at Stefanos, her facial expression drawn and tired. It's the first time she is actually willing to admit that there is a very real chance for impending doom here...

“I don't know, Stef. I really don't know... But I hope for it. That's all I can do. Come and stay and watch over him while hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update : I will definitely finish part 2 even though it might take some time.  
> Please don't hold out too much hope for the final part. Right now I don't think I'll finish it.


	10. Roger & Mirka // Stefanos & Sascha

When Roger has come home last night at around midnight, Mirka and the kids had already been asleep. In his eyes, that had been a small mercy because this way he has had a chance to rest, to sleep through the night – though it has been a fitful sleep – and to think about what exactly it is he wants to tell Mirka... or if he wants to tell her at all. In the end, the latter decision is an easy one. He cannot lie to her. She is bound to find out and it is better that she hears about Rafa from him instead of being blindsided by rumors and half truths circling the office the next time she is there.  
  
He takes his time getting ready for the day ahead of him. Talking to Mirka will be his first obstacle of the day. The larger and more disconcerting one is Maribel. Roger wants to go and check on Rafa, spend some time at ICU and keep an eye on the younger man of course... but he does not want to bump into the Spaniard's sister. Maribel will be emotional, she will be vulnerable and the last thing either of them wants or needs is a fight while standing right at the window to Rafa's hospital room. Somehow he needs to make sure Maribel will not be there when he comes to see Rafa. He has no idea how to do that yet. But he has no idea what to tell his wife exactly either. This whole thing with Rafa... it has left his mind completely blank.  
  
The children are already gone when Roger finally makes his way into the kitchen. It's for the best this way. Roger is very much sure the conversation with Mirka will end in a fight. Better not to have any of the kids witness that... Mirka is at the table with a cup of coffee and she looks up when Roger enters the room. There is no smile, but a rather pronounced frown on her face when he steps into the room. He could settle at the table of course but something tells him it is better to stay standing. The second he hears his wife's tone of voice Roger is sure he has made the right decision.  
  
“I missed you when I woke up this morning. Where have you been?”  
  
“I took the guest bedroom for the night. I didn't want to wake you.”  
  
“You were home late yesterday.”  
  
“I know. I'm sorry.”  
  
She looks at him expectantly and Roger knows it is time for the truth now. But his mind is still entirely empty. He has no idea how to tell Mirka, Rafa is still alive. Maybe that is as simple as it is. Simply to say the words. But so far all he manages is an apology for his inability to talk to her and Mirka doesn't want to hear it. She demands honesty and there's a sharpness to her voice... and an edge of jealousy. Just like old times… and Mirka doesn't even know the truth yet... Roger is not making matters any better, he knows that. But in the end he doesn't have to.  
  
“Maybe you would like to explain?”  
  
“No, not really.”  
  
“Is this about Rafa again? I swear to you, these last couple of weeks you have been... obsessing. I already told you, it's been more than a decade! This needs to stop...”  
  
“He's alive, Mirka.”

There it is, the words are out, and in the end his wife is the one who has helped him say them. It is her impatience and lack of empathy more than anything that makes telling the truth not only possible but a lot easier than Roger has ever expected. Mirka is staring at him without blinking for a very long time. For just a second there, he manages to shake her confidence, but then his wife shakes her head ever so softly. She doesn't believe him, but she should. He has started telling her and he can't nor wants to go back on it now. It's time for her to find out.  
  
“You can't possibly know that.”  
  
“But I do. He's at the clinic. Right this moment.”  
  
“He... What?!”  
  
Mirka is at a loss for words and that is something that rarely ever happens to her under normal circumstances. But these aren't normal circumstances. They couldn't be any more difficult and surreal. But Roger takes the chance presenting itself. He needs to tell Mirka how Rafa's reappearance has come to pass and that Roger has been late at home because he has been to see the younger man... instead of coming back to his family. And he cannot even bring himself to feel in any way guilty or like he has done something wrong. This is Rafa after all...  
  
“They found him, Mirka. The response team found Rafa. Yesterday at that fertility clinic near Barcelona. They brought him back and Dr. Alvaro is treating him right now.”  
  
“Are... are you sure about this?!”  
  
“Yes. I went to see him.”  
  
Something flashes across Mirka's face, but she reigns her emotions in again almost immediately. It's too late though. Roger has seen the mixture of unwillingness and jealousy on his wife's face. Even after more than a decade Mirka has never given up her animosity when it comes to Rafa. But the fact that Rafa is in need of medical attention seems to soothe her negative emotions somewhat. Roger isn't sure if Mirka is actually worried, curious or truly cares about Rafa's condition. But she does show sympathy.  
  
“How... how is he?”  
  
“It's bad, Mirka. It's really bad... I barely recognized him... And he's so desperately sick right now, he can't even have any visitors. He's hanging on, but barely... Dr. Alvaro wouldn't really go into detail for whatever reason, but I'm sure he was trying to spare me pain or something. But even a blind man could tell Rafa isn't doing well... Not at all.”  
  
“Will he... live?”  
  
The bluntness to her question hurts almost as much as the words themselves. Mirka cannot know about the seriousness of Rafa's condition and how heartbreaking it has been for Roger to see the younger man like this. Not even now that he has told her about some of it. Words can never describe the current situation properly. And in the end being rational is easy for her. She has never cared, at least not about Rafa, not enough at least. But it's not like she has ever wished Rafa any harm. She has wished – however – to have her husband all to herself. That wish has come true... and now it is not anymore. Maybe. Hopefully. If Rafa actually survives...  
  
“I don't know. Nobody seems to know at the moment. We have to wait... and see what happens.”  
  
“Since when have you known?”  
  
“Yesterday midday.”  
  
As much as Mirka tries to show sympathy and care for Rafa, she neither appreciates nor easily tolerates the fact, that her husband has been hiding the truth about the Spaniard from her for a whole day now. He has hidden himself away from her – from his whole family for that matter - has not even shared the same bedroom with her and she is pretty sure he would have kept on hiding the truth from her, if he could have gotten away with it. He didn't tell her because he wants to be honest or because he wants to share how he feels with her. He did it because he had to in order not to risk an even worse fight, if Mirka found out on her own.  
  
“You have known for a whole day?! And you chose to tell me now because what?! I called you out on it?! I would have found out at the office eventually and you wanted to spare yourself the heartache of a fight in front of staff members?!”  
  
“It's not like that...”  
  
“You lied to me!”  
  
“This isn't about you.”  
  
Roger doesn't mean to be hurtful, but he chooses the wrongest of things to say. Of course he cannot expect Mirka to react objectively. This is about their relationship and she takes his statement very much personally and with a malice to it that Roger has neither intended nor used. He simply means it as he has said it. None of this is about her. It’s about him and Rafa and a chance to mend what is broken and lost between them. Of course Mirka doesn’t see it that way. To her this is very much a triangle.  
  
“I'm your wife!”  
  
“And as my wife, I expect you to support me. Rafa is no competition for you, Mirka. He never has been and he definitely isn't right now. So stop acting like he's a rival. He can't hurt you.”  
  
“I don't want you to see him.”  
  
She doesn’t even listen to him, maybe doesn’t want to or simply doesn’t trust him in that moment. She has no reason to, Roger knows that. After all he has been trying to keep the truth from her. But as much as she tries to be convincing and authoritative – they are what they are – and Mirka’s beta nature will leave her unable to push Roger into doing anything he doesn’t like or want to. And not seeing Rafa, even if doing so hurts his wife’s feelings – is something he very much does not want to do.  
  
“Don't take this the wrong way, but... I really don't care. This is not your decision to make.”  
  
“What about us – me and the kids? What about my feelings? What about my needs? I'm your wife, your family, the woman by your side for almost two decades now. Your friend, your confidante, the person who provided a family and who raises your children with you. Does that count for nothing?!”  
  
“It counts for a lot.”  
  
“A lot... but not enough...”  
  
Mirka sounds defeated more than she sounds angry. She is of course, there is no doubt about that. Roger can see it in the soft tremble of her hands before they close around her coffee mug and in the way her lips draw into a thin line. She has every right to be angry – with him, not with Rafa. But this has always been a possibility and she has always known that. A decade might have passed by, but things haven’t changed. Roger’s feelings for the Spaniard haven’t changed. His wife needs to understand that.  
  
“I will not give up on Rafa. You just said it yourself - I have hoped and dreamed of this day for over a decade now and I will not let go. Not ever. And that is the end of this discussion.”  
  
*#*  
  
Stefanos has taken his time in returning to Sascha’s place, because he needs to make a decision first and it’s not exactly an easy decision. So he has stalled and procrastinated and tried to find reasons to stay at the charity longer. He has suggested to take Maribel out for lunch but the older woman had downright refused. She hadn't wanted to leave her brother and Stefanos could very well understand that. So he had decided to return to the German’s side and see how he is doing. He has – however – taken it upon himself to have the head nurse at ICU promise him to make sure Mari eats… and sleeps.  
  
Returning to Sascha, the young Greek has taken a detour. He has gone to his own place first to get a couple of things. Sascha is not doing well and, just like with Maribel, Stefanos wants to look out for him. He can’t do that from his own apartment but neither can he spend the next days – or maybe even weeks – in borrowed clothes. There really is only one useful and sensible solution…  
  
When he returns, Sascha is not in the living room or kitchen. He can only assume the other man is still asleep and that is a good thing. He can use the rest. But it is past noon already and Stefanos has brought lunch with him. He decides to check on Sascha and when he enters the bedroom, he is surprised to find that Sascha is looking at him. He is still in bed but he is awake and he looks curious and just a little confused.  
  
“Where have you been?”  
  
“I went to the clinic and talked to Maribel. You're not my only friend around here after all.”  
  
“I'm your friend?”  
  
Sascha is grinning at him now and Stefanos gives a soft growl in response. The German is making fun of him and the young Greek feels uncomfortable. Mainly because he has no idea how to answer the question. They are sharing some sort of relationship, that much is for sure but Stefanos has a hard time labeling it. Maybe that is because it has been up and down with them ever sine they have first talked to one another. They have gone from disdain to tolerance to friendship and maybe even affection now. But they have never really stayed anywhere for long when it comes to their feelings and quite frankly Stefanos has no idea where he wants to end up... Not yet. For now all he is sure of is that he wants to be a good friend and take care of the German.  
  
“Oh, stop it! Did you sleep any better?”  
  
“I didn't dream again if that's your question. But I don't feel rested... And I missed work.”  
  
“That's okay. You can take your time.”  
  
“But my social service hours...”  
  
Sascha has sat up in bed a little and he sounds truly concerned about his social service commitment. Stefanos isn't exactly sure what Sascha is worried about though. He has been here in Paris a little over two months now and he has finished a little over 200 hours. He is close to being halfway through the hours he has to finish and he has managed to get them done within a third of the time he has been appointed. He shouldn't be worried. He is very well on track - and right now the social service commitment should be the last thing on Sascha's mind.  
  
“Sascha, you went through something horrible! Your social service hours can wait.”  
  
“How... how did you get back in here?”  
  
“I took your keys.”  
  
“Oh...”  
  
Sascha sounds confused more than worried or irritated by the fact that Stefanos has not only taken one of his possessions without asking him first, but has let himself in and out of the German's apartment like he has damn well pleased. He can't bring himself to mind though. He is glad Stefanos is here – or has come back to be precise – even if the younger man has sort of gone behind his back in doing so. Still it is way, way better than being alone. At last for the time being, Sascha really can't stand the silence.  
  
“And I brought some stuff back.”  
  
“Like food?”  
  
“That too.”  
  
Given how non-confrontational and almost positive Sascha's reaction is, the Greek decides to push his luck. Stefanos has actually dropped most of his things by the couch in the living room, but he has one small bag right here with him – the ones that holds stuff like pajamas and a toothbrush and deodorant, stuff that goes into the bedroom or adjacent bathroom. He shows the bag to Sascha and the other man frowns, still more confused than anything. Stefanos actually had to grin at the display of oblivion.

“This is your stuff.”

“Yes, of course. Who else would it belong to?”  
  
“You want to what? Move in with me?”  
  
There is a cheeky grin on Sascha's face now, one that doesn't quite fit with his pale complexion and Stefanos tries his best to hide back a frustrated sigh. Of course the German would make some innuendo filled joke out of this. He should know Stefanos better by now. He should know this is not about establishing some sort of relationship other than a friendship... In the end Sascha probably doesn't mean it. He simply says it to get on Stefanos' nerves. The younger man decides to counter Sascha's joke with honesty. It doesn't have the desired effect.  
  
“No! I want to be there for you. And in order to do that I need to... be there. Here, with you.”  
  
“So you do want to move in with me?”  
  
“Shut up, get up and take a shower. I'll meet you in the kitchen. We're having chicken and rice and salad.”  
  
Sascha's grin only widens at Stefanos' demanding tone. It's nice to have the Greek around and he very much appreciates that Stefanos has not only stayed the night, but has decided to be here and make sure Sascha is okay for a while longer. Still the demand in combination with a prepared meal seems sort of odd.. and very domestic, very typically omega... Though Sascha definitely would never say that out loud to Stefanos. Instead he teases him just a little.  
  
“You cook, too?”  
  
“No. I buy. Hurry up. The food will get cold.”  
  
Stefanos has already turned and is on his way to the room's door – presumably to check on their lunch – when Sascha stops him again. With all their bickering, his joking and Stefanos' adorably sour expression, Sascha has somehow managed to ignore the fact, that there is a gravity and importance to the Greek's decision he has yet to appreciate. Stefanos has decided to stay with him... and care for him. Sascha stops the Greek and smiles at him – a soft, grateful and happy smile. Stefanos acts like he doesn't care for Sascha's appreciation, but he fails miserable... and that is a good thing.  
  
“Thank you, Stef.”  
  
“You said that already.”


	11. Maribel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some medical stuff in here that probably doesn't make too much sense - but hey, it's fiction! :P

*A week later*  
  
It’s a very slow, barely detectable change, but her brother is getting better. Of course that is what the doctors and nurses tell her, but she doesn’t need a medical professional or a readout from the monitors to know. She can see it. Color has returned to her brother’s face – not a lot but he looks definitely better. That sickly ashen pallor, that has been a prominent feature on his face ever since they found him, has receded.  
  
It has been a slow and grueling process. For him of course, but for the people watching over him just the same. For the first two and a half days nothing has happened. Dr. Alvaro has always claimed that to be a good thing, because no change has also meant, that her brother’s condition hadn’t deteriorated. It hadn’t improved either though… In the end the doctor has convinced her to try a different regimen of medication.  
  
It had not exactly worked well, because Rafa had shown a rather violent reaction to the change in chemicals delivered through the IV in order to help him. Mari hadn’t been there at the time – had been asleep one building over at the safe house – but the head nurse had told her about it the next morning, downplaying the risk of both her brother’s heart rate and blood pressure spiking due to the sudden change…  
  
It seemed there was truth to the saying, that things had to get worse before they ever got better. Because after that nightly incident, Rafa’s vital signs had picked up. Not a lot, but enough for Dr. Alvaro to finally allow a tiny smile to creep onto his face. From there on out her brother had improved – slowly but steadily. The antibiotics did what they were supposed to and got the infection under control. The infection – or infections to be precise – receded, the fluid build up in his lungs went down along with his fever and Rafa’s vital signs had reached that… favorable region Dr. Alvaro had been talking to her about. The one where he was now cautiously optimistic.  
  
Above all other things, Mari felt exhausted. She was grateful and overjoyed by the fact that Rafa would indeed wake up. He wouldn’t be okay, not by a long shot and not any time soon. But he would improve and hopefully make a recovery that would allow him to live a normal life… But she also dreaded the moment her brother would wake up… the moment when she would first see him and there would be no doubt or interpretation or room for speculation any more. The true damage – to his mind, to his heart and soul – would only ever come to light then.  
  
Right now the mental pain and recovery are not on the forefront though. Right now Maribel is talking to Dr. Alvaro about the next steps of Rafa’s treatment plan. And she hates every second of it. She shouldn’t be the one to decide this. Hell, neither her nor Rafa should have to deal with any of this… But her brother is sick and she is the next living relative available. She has to do this – because Rafa can’t.  
  
„Now that we have managed to get this damn infection under control – which was quite a big question mark given his condition and a major accomplishment in itself - we can take a proper look at the injury.”  
  
“I already did that.”  
  
Mari can’t help the bitter sarcasm seeping into her voice. The reminder of that moment when she had first seen her brother like this – desperately sick, unconscious and bleeding – still sends a shiver down her spine. Of course she is being unfair here – all she has seen of Rafa’s injury is a soiled bandage and quite a bit of blood. She has never seen the actual wound and she isn’t sure she wants that. Even with the bandage clean these days - stark white - there is still blood… and that worries her… and it scares her, no matter how many times the doctor assures her it’s fine for now.  
  
“My first goal here is to debride and get rid of any residual tissue affected by the infection. After that we keep it clean and bandaged. It's all I can do for now.“  
  
“How do you do that? Debride?”  
  
“It’s the fancy medical term for cutting it out, Maribel.”  
  
The younger woman pales visibly at the doctor’s bluntness, but she isn’t taken aback for too long. Shock makes way for a much more profound and negative reaction – she’s angry with the doctor. Furious actually. She cannot believe he is actually willing to put her brother through more pain, more injury, more medical procedures and yet more risk to his health. Because no matter what he tells her and no matter the necessity, cutting into sensitive skin and flesh does not sound like something that could be even remotely okay even under the best of circumstance. Mari crosses her arms in front of her chest and glares at the doctor, not even trying to hide her feelings.  
  
“You want to put him through surgery?! You said his vital signs were barely within an acceptable range!”  
  
“It’s not that big a deal. He’s already on painkillers and sedatives. We can do this here.”  
  
„But it's still bleeding... and you want to add to that?“  
  
„I know. But it’s precisely the reason this needs to be done. It’s the best solution to not have the infection flare up again, especially as it won't heal on his own that easily.“  
  
Maribel frowns at the explanation. Dr. Alvaro has explained the reason for Rafa’s injury to not have healed properly to her before. He had told her it is because of the state they had found Rafa in. With everything else going on – the infection, the fever, the lack of food and water – his body had dealt with the most important problems first. It had tried to stay alive. Healing a bleeding cut had not been a major issue for the body’s resources then. But now her brother is getting better, which – to Mari’s understanding – means the healing process should work better as well. She doesn’t understand why it is not.  
  
„Why?“  
  
„Imagine... imagine breaking a vase at exactly the same spot over and over again. What happens by the 3rd, 4th, 5th time?“  
  
„I don't follow...“  
  
„It gets harder to put the pieces back together... and – to put it crudely - that is what has happened to him. Too many cuts in the same place...”  
  
Maribel swallows hard at that, the odd – and disconnected – metaphor Dr. Alvaro has used for explanation making sense now. Still she cannot begin to understand how anyone could have done this to another human being… especially somebody like her brother. She doesn’t want to think about the implications, doesn’t want to allow the thought of what her brother has gone through, for years and years without end, in. She can’t allow it. If she does, she knows she will unravel. And that is not helping her and more importantly it’s not helping Rafa. So she tries to be rational, tries to find a detached way of looking at things. But even then this whole gruesome topic makes no sense to her.  
  
“Why would anyone do that?! I mean this was no brothel where they keep omegas for the fun of sadistic alphas to hurt them... Treating an omega badly at a fertility clinic means losing an asset and losing income... from a purely economic point of view. Why risk that?”  
  
“Because they weren't left with any other choice. Now the safest course of action with any male omega pregnancy is a c-section. One of them is considered safe, two of them is already a risk factor to be considered, but 5 to 10 of them... The body's defenses and regenerative capabilities can only do so much. There is too much scar tissue and scar tissue reacts differently than skin. It cannot reproduce, it cannot knit itself back together. It's simply been too much strain and damage on the same spot over and over and over again.“  
  
“So if you cut in there, you’ll only make it worse?!”  
  
“Not necessarily. As I told you before – the fact that the wound hasn’t started healing on it’s own, was mainly due to your brother’s overall poor condition. He’s better now, so that should help. But there are other options.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like a skin graft. Basically we take a portion of healthy skin from somewhere else and transplant it. Of course there are risks involved as well.”  
  
Maribel sighs audibly. She feels like she is tangled in a web or stranded in a labyrinth. No matter which path she chooses, there is never a right decision. All she can do is choose between the lesser of two evils and she wants for that to stop. She shouldn’t be making decisions on her older brother’s behalf in the first place. But she has to. All she wishes is for one damn choice that is cut and dry and where there are guarantees. But she doesn’t get that. All she gets is a chance to weigh the risks, make a decision and hope for the best. She takes a deep breath before she continues the conversation with the physician.  
  
“For example?”  
  
“A rejection. Or another infection.”  
  
“So… cleaning out the wound and letting it heal on it’s own… that is safer for him?”  
  
Maribel isn’t quite sure if she understands it right, but to her that idea with the skin graft sounds even worse than debriding the wound. At least with the latter Dr. Alvaro will put her brother through only one surgical procedure, not two of them… To her neither option sounds reasonable but it’s about necessity, not reason. If at all possible, she wants to keep any additional strain and discomfort from her brother as much as possible. In order to make that decision, she needs Alvaro’s help though. The doctor is careful in his answer, but in the end he does tell Maribel what she has hoped to hear and gives her a chance to make a decision she can live with.   
  
“There aren’t really any safe courses of action yet. He’s still too weak and too sick to be assessed like any other patient when it comes to risk factors. But generally speaking – yes, letting the body do this on it’s own is the safer course of action.”  
  
“Than that is what we will do.”  
  
Dr. Alvaro nods, accepting the decision without judgment or comment. He has treated a lot of omegas over the years, but this is a unique situation for him. Usually – in cases like this – he can decide on his own. This time he has to rely on a family member without any medical knowledge or education to make his decision for him… But so far, he feels, Maribel has done a good job… The younger woman doesn’t feel quite as confident as Dr. Alvaro does. And she has another, last – important – question plaguing her mind.  
  
It’s not even about her or Rafa really. It is about their family, because as long as her brother’s condition had been… touch and go, Mari had not told anyone about him. But now he is better… and she knows she has to tell their parents at some point. From everything Dr. Alvaro has told her, that moment is now. Rafa is better. He will survive. There is no logical reason for her not to let their parents in on that fact. And still she cannot find the courage within herself to actually pick up the phone...  
  
Mainly because this is not a topic for a phone call. She cannot call from hundreds of miles away and tell their mother and father that all the grief and misery of the last decade has been for naught and that their first born is right here in Paris with her. The only way to do this is in person... and that thought seems even more daunting than a phone call. Dr. Alvaro doesn’t exactly make the decision any easier. Obviously a time frame on Rafa’s wake up process is just as difficult for the doctor, as is relaying the information to her family for Mari. Though for entirely different reasons…  
  
“If all goes well and he continues to improve and the wound starts to heal… when will he wake up?”  
  
“That depends on you and me really. Right now his unconsciousness is drug induced – to help him recover and keep the pain from him. So as soon as I deem him well enough and you agree to it, we stop that regimen of medication and he will wake up.”  
  
“Right away?”  
  
“No. It’ll be three to five days, maybe a week. It depends on how quickly the sedatives are out of his system once we stop administering them and how well he takes the change...”  
  
The thought of having Rafa off those medication that keep his pain at bay does not sit right with Maribel. But maybe she is misunderstanding something here. After all the clinic is a proper hospital... unlike that hellhole her brother has been subjected to for the past decade. Dr. Alvaro would never do anything that would hurt Rafa, she is absolutely sure of that. But she can't help but worry. Whether it would be deliberate or by accident doesn't really matter – not to her, not to her brother. All Mari wants for Rafa is some peace and calm... finally.  
  
“He won’t be in pain once he wakes up?”  
  
“Discomfort possibly. But the pain we can manage.”  
  
“If he lets us…”  
  
The words are only a mere whisper and out of her mouth before Mari can control herself. She hasn't meant for anyone to hear them, but Dr. Alvaro picks up on them anyway. He is frowning but Maribel can't bring herself to take the words back. She knows how badly her brother has been treated, has seen the evidence of it first hand... And she can't help but wonder how he will react to being in yet another hospital with a bunch of strangers around him, who claim wanting to help him, while he feels sick and weak and... in discomfort. She holds out little hope for any kind of good outcome. But Dr. Alvaro doesn't need to know that. It's a bridge they'll cross, when they come to it.   
  
“What was that?”  
  
“Nothing...”  



	12. Maribel

*Mallorca – August 2008*  
  
Maribel hasn’t seen her brother in the last four days – not since Tuesday – and she has decided to give him that space. It’s obvious he needs it at the moment. Despite his display of confidence and conviction, the aftermath of his ‘outing’ has been hard on him. Everybody has an opinion of course, they all want to share said opinion and not all of them are positive. While a lot of people have congratulated Rafa on his honesty and courage, others have called him opportunistic, attention seeking and a damn idiot.  
  
The opinions are not the worst of it all though. People are entitled to those and it is not like her brother has ever thought much of how other people feel about him. He cares for his friend's and family's opinions. But there are other people to be considered and unfortunately that includes sponsors. As much she is shielded from the... business life of her brother's career, Mari knows for a fact there have been calls going back and forth. And they have not been of the pleasant variety. Apparently some of the sponsors feel cheated and betrayed by the fact, that Rafa has hidden his omega status up until now...  
  
Like this is any of their business in the first place... It shouldn't matter and even if it did for the sport, this is her brother's personal life. Yes, he has gone on record to say that being an omega does not mean any kind of limitation in any aspect of life, as it has for him with his own tennis career. But he has not tried to be a martyr or has tried to promote any changes in the sport. Rafa has simply tried to be truthful and now he is dealing with the fallout.  
  
Actually her brother is not dealing with any of this right now. He has decided to retreat and take some time for himself. He has gone to the family weekend home in Porto Cristo, right by the sea, and that is where he has been since Tuesday afternoon, on his own, trying to catch a break and not wanting anyone else's company but his own. It isn't usually like him but then again these aren't usual circumstances and if this is helping him, Mari is willing to let her brother be.  
  
Their mother however is not as patient and understanding of her son's decision to be alone. She has called – numerous times as far as Mari knows – and surprisingly enough Rafa has accommodated her to the best of his ability... until Thursday. But it is Saturday now, Rafa hasn't picked up the phone in two days an their mother is worried. Mari has tried to soothe her to the best of her ability and so has her father. But by now she is no longer taking no for an answer. She has insisted on going to their seaside home and she has insisted her daughter come with her.  
  
They are at the house now and all seems in order. Rafa's car is in the driveway and there is a bit of chaos in the living room and kitchen that indicate he has indeed been here. But the house is empty, her brother nowhere in sight and Maribel is about ready to tell her mother they should simply leave and let Rafa be, when the older woman suddenly stops dead in her tracks, stares at something she has detected in the kitchen and utter something that seems so completely disproportionate, it would be funny, wouldn’t her voice sound so hollow and trembling all of a sudden. Maribel however tries not to read too much into it. Their mother has a bit of a strike for the dramatic sometimes.  
  
“We have to call the police.”  
  
“Why on earth would we do that?! Maybe he's just out... Or he saw us coming and decided to ignore us. He didn’t want company, remember? We should respect that.”  
  
“I... I don't think so.”  
  
“You don’t think you should respect your grown up son’s wishes?”  
  
Mari tries for an – albeit lame – joke to relieve some of the tension that seems to have grabbed a hold of her mother, but if at all she makes it worse. Either way, the older woman doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as look at her and it is only when Maribel coaxes her again – a little more emphatic in her approach this time – that her mother speaks up, reaching out a trembling hand in the process, pointing to something in the kitchen Maribel is yet unaware of.  
  
“Mama?”  
  
“Look at this... There are shards of glass on the kitchen floor… And then the overturned chair, the ripped curtains at the window and your brother nowhere around? Everything else is still here… His cell phone, his keys, his wallet...”  
  
A cold hard knot forms in Maribel’s stomach the second her eyes follow her mother’s outstretched fingers and she detects the carnage in the kitchen. She has no idea how she has been able to ignore the very obvious facts up until this moment. The scent is faint, but it is all over the house and somehow her senses only ever pick up on that now. The whole damn house – the kitchen especially – smells distinctly of fear… She swallows hard. There really is only one logical reason for all this…  
  
“He has fought to flee from somebody...”  
  
“You don't know that!”  
  
“I know what I smell, Mama. It's lingering and faint, but it's fear... Rafa was here and he was deathly afraid of something... and now he has vanished... I think somebody broke in here and I think they took him.”  
  
She is assuming a lot, Maribel knows that. But why else would there be signs of a fight? Why else would her brother’s scent and the fear he has felt, be so prominent? Why else would all of his belongings still be here, while Rafa himself has vanished? Their mother – who has been so adamant about calling the police at the start – is shaking her head in disbelief now, refusing to make sense of her daughter’s statement all of a sudden.  
  
“They? What does that even mean?”  
  
“I don’t know, okay! Somebody. Somebody who didn’t care they were committing a crime. Somebody willing to risk being apprehended and tried and sentenced. Somebody who decided he could make something off the fact, that Rafa is omega…”  
  
“You… you think your brother is hurt?”  
  
“No. I don’t smell blood.”

Mari has taken a whiff – and has tried her best to be inconspicuous about it – but she still manages to elicit a gasp from her mother, when she tells her this bluntly what she has detected. The news she has, at least are good. Her brother hasn’t been injured during the break in… or whatever else has happened here. The thought of her brother alone and scared is bad enough already, but for him to be injured on top of that… At least there is a small mercy in all of this.  
  
Their mother has picked up her phone from her pocket now and Maribel is about to ask her what she is doing, when she realizes she is about to call the police – as initially intended. Mari takes another look at the room and her heart clenches painfully in her chest. Maybe this is just some sort of scare and it will all blow over soon. But her brother has definitely been afraid. Still, this is an island and he is one of it’s most prominent inhabitants. There will be no stone left unturned… Police will find Rafa, Mari is sure of that.  
  
She only half listens to her mother on the phone and when she ends the call and lets her know it will be about 30 minutes, neither one of them have any clue as to what to do next. Mari watches as her mother steps into the kitchen, kneels to pick up one of the shard of broken glass but stops herself before Mari can ever tell her to. This is… evidence after all. It’s better if they don’t touch anything, better if they don’t enter the kitchen at all.  
  
“We should probably wait outside? Out by the pool, where it’s nice and warm? We leave the door open so we hear the bell ring?”  
  
Her mother nods solemnly but doesn’t say a word. Mari however is glad the older woman reacts at all. Ever since that phone call, it seems her mother has shut down somewhat. She has called for help and now they are both at a loss for what to do. Settling outside, with the sun warming them helps somewhat – at least enough for her mother to find her voice again. What she has to say however, enrages Mari more than it actually helps in any way.  
  
“We… we should call… well… We should call Roger as well, should we not?”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because he and your brother, they…”  
  
“There’s nothing there, Mama. At least not any more I think…”  
  
Mari is quick to answer, quick to relay information Rafa probably doesn’t want their mother to have… For just a second Mari finds it odd their mother knows in the first place, but then again Roger hasn’t exactly been subtle from what little Mari has been told. At Wimbledon especially he has showed up at the team’s and family’s rented house quite a few times. Of course their mother knows… But she is not up to date. Otherwise the confused frown on her face makes no sense.  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
“Rafa told me. Actually he tried to avoid telling me. Either way, Roger is the reason Rafa decided to tell all the world about his status in the first place. They had some sort of falling out and… I don’t know. All I DO know, is that this is Roger’s fault somehow. I don’t want him here. Besides, there is nothing he can do to help anyway.”  
  
“Maybe he can…”  
  
“There is no bond, mother. Never has been, never will be.”  
  
Her mother looks at her like Mari has just physically slapped her and she feels sorry immediately for reacting so forceful and very much angry at even the suggestion that her brother and the Swiss are bonded. It is a topic that makes her furious though. Because from everything her brother has told her, Mari very much feels like the Swiss has abandoned her brother in a time of need. But none of that is their mother’s fault and taking the anger she feels about that out on her is simply wrong. Her mother smiles in the wake of Mari’s apology – a small, melancholy, defeated smile that never reaches her eyes.  
  
“I… I didn’t mean to snap. I’m sorry…”  
  
“It’s fine, dear. Everything will be fine.”  
  
*#*  
  
The memory of those famous last words her mother has said on that fateful day have been plaguing Mari ever since she has been on the plane that is taking her to Palma. It has been a spur of the moment decision, and Mari isn't sure it's the right one. It doesn't feel right. Actually it makes her stomach churn and turn into knots every time she thinks about it. But she has to see her parents, she has to tell them about Rafa and she has to do so in person. Anything else would be both wrong and simply hurtful. This is not something she can do over the phone… Though frankly she isn’t sure this is something she can do at all… But she has to.

Dr. Alvaro has performed the surgery – or the procedure as he has called it – on her brother's still bleeding surgical wound, and he has been very clear on the fact, that this is not something she needs to see. The physician has done the procedure right there in the hospital room – as planned – as it is minimally invasive. He has been quick and efficient and when he had come to talk to Mari again, the older man had been content. Maybe not exactly happy, but then again this has been a difficult task for him.

The surgical procedure, mercifully, has gone well and without any complications or adverse physical reactions from her brother. Afterwards they have discussed the future, have mainly discussed waking Rafa up again. Now, that his injury is taken care of to the extent possible at the moment and with pain management available, Dr. Alvaro has not only suggested but encouraged the idea of waking her brother up. It is time...

Maribel has agreed. Rafa is better – at least well enough to be conscious – the wound is cleaned and closed to the best of the doctor’s ability and there is no reason to drag the drug induced unconsciousness out any longer. So Dr. Alvaro has followed through on her wishes. Rafa will be waking up sometime in the next couple of days and Maribel is on her way to talk to her family and finally tell them the truth of what had happened in Barcelona. She has called to tell them she is coming, but she has not told them her reasons. She has lied, it's as simple as that. She has lied to her parents and has told them she is coming home simply to see them and spend time with them. Of course it's a white lie - because she does come to see them – and she has sworn to herself not to tell them anything about Rafa without a chance to face them while doing it.

It will be at least another hour or two but still that is not enough time. She has no idea what to say and in that regard a couple more hours will not help her either. This is too much, it's too big and it should not be her, who has to do this. But things are as they are. The fact that she has to tell them about Rafa is not even the worst of it all. She has to tell them something that is even more heartbreaking. She has to tell them that, despite the fact that their son is alive and getting better, they cannot see him. Not now anyway. Not until they know how Rafa will react to other people once he wakes up.

It's a moment Mari very much dreads herself. She has seen first hand what her brother has gone through and Carlos has said it best. Given what Rafa has been forced through, they cannot know how much of the brother she has once known, is truly still left. Their parents have to understand that as well. But Mari has to make them see... and she can't expect them to be logical about any of this. This is their long lost son they are talking about after all. In the wake of the revelation of Rafa's return to them, there is no space for logic. Only for emotion.

In the end maybe that's the best thing, the only thing she can do. Tell her parents how she feels and hope they can build from the fact that they all share the same, difficult feelings. And maybe, just maybe, she can convince them the best way to help their son and her brother, is to give him the space and time he needs... And to adhere to what HE needs and wishes... not them. But just like with her emotions, it will be difficult...


	13. Roger // Maribel

*Later that same day*

Roger has yet again taken his time to go and see Rafa. It's a balance act, because he does not want to bump into Maribel. But it's lunch time now and Roger simply assumes Maribel will take a break from the vigil at her brother's bedside. She has done that on every day ever since the response team has brought her brother back and he has tried to time his visits accordingly. It's a little like a dance... just that Mari is unaware of the fact they are dancing around each other like this. Or maybe she does know and has decided to tolerate Roger sneaking in to see her brother when she is not there to protest.

Roger has no idea what to think or what the truth is. He knows Maribel doesn't like him, despises him most of the time. But she is also aware of the fact that there has been a relationship between Roger and her brother once upon a time... and that this whole situation is difficult for Roger just the same as it is for Maribel. Though the Swiss highly doubts that is the younger woman's reasoning. She has other things on her mind than him, it's as simple as that. Quite frankly Roger doesn't care for her reasoning, as long as the result is the same. He can go and see Rafa, that is the only thing of importance.

Just like every other time when he is allowed into ICU, his first question is about Maribel. What is different from his usual routine, is that it is not the head nurse he is talking to, to ask about Maribel's whereabouts. It is Dr. Alvaro and Roger's first instinct is to feel worried. The physician isn't usually around when Roger shows up here and that he is here can only mean he NEEDS to be here. But Dr. Alvaro is neither in a hurry, nor in a bad mood or taking care of any patients. He's simply there... And when Roger comes to talk to him – asking his usual question in a slightly shaky tone of voice – Dr. Alvaro shows no signs of any distress or anxiousness. Obviously him being here is simply a coincidence.

“Is Maribel around?”

“No. She left for home a couple of hours ago.”

Roger frowns at the revelation. She knows Rafa's condition has been improving – a little every day – but he still hasn't woken up. Maribel leaving like this is strange to him, because in the past nine days since her brother is here at the clinic, she has only ever left his side to sleep or eat something. Now she is several hundred miles away with no chance to even see her brother... Something doesn't add up here and Roger wants to know what it is, even if it is none of his business. What Maribel does or does not do should not interest Roger. But despite all their differences and all the hard feelings of the past, Roger cares for the younger woman. 

“Why?”

“To tell her family about her brother.”

Dr. Alvaro's answer confuses Roger even more. Rafa has been at the clinic for over a week now and to Roger it has seemed odd already, that Rafa's family had been nowhere around. But Roger had simply assumed he had not seen them, had not been aware of their presence. After all he only ever comes to see Rafa when Maribel isn't there... But as it turns out now, they truly aren't here... and obviously Mari hasn't even talked to her family as of yet. She hasn't been on the best of terms with her family before, Roger knows that. But from what little he has picked up, he also knows she has tried to remedy that in the very immediate past. 

He is not informed about all the proceedings – of that Roger is pretty sure – but maybe Maribel hasn't reconciled with her family at all or not as much as the Swiss would have thought... Or maybe, just maybe, she has fully reconciled with them and she simply hasn't told them because it's too hard, too painful... and there has been too much of an uncertainty about Rafa's chances of survival. But now the uncertainty is gone and with it the younger woman's justification to keep her brother's reappearance a secret any longer.

Roger tries to imagine what he would have done, had he been the one responsible to tell the younger man's family, that he has indeed disappeared for years, but has never died and that he is now back in their lives and all their grief and misery has been for naught all those years. Even the thought of it makes his stomach churn. No wonder Maribel has taken her time... She is definitely more courageous than him... But Roger is not here about Maribel. He's here about Rafa and he wants to know how the younger man is doing today. Dr. Alvaro is very much helpful in that regard.

“How is he?”

“Better. Not good yet, but better. The infection is receding further and his temperature is almost back to normal.”

“That's good, right?”

“It's very good. Far better than I have expected quite frankly.”

Now – with Rafa finally doing better and the immediate threat to his very life dealt with and averted – Roger can actually smile softly at the doctor's words. Alvaro has been the pessimistic one right from the start. It had been sort of disconcerting, because he is the one with the most medical knowledge on top of that. But unlike Roger and Carlos and Maribel, he doesn't know Rafa in person. To him it has all been about medical facts, to them it has been about Rafa's will to fight, his stubbornness to never give up. In the end the people who knew the Spaniard had been right... and Roger has no words to describe how grateful he is about that very fact. 

Rafa being better and having survived the very real danger to his life, the high fever and the multitude of infections have presented, poses a different problem now though. The question of the very near future, the question of how to deal with the Spaniard's other, lesser but equally as gruesome injuries. They have talked about this before and never in detail, because it simply hadn't made sense. Now it does, and Roger is very much curious and anxious to find out what Dr. Alvaro's plans are for Rafa.

“You said that was step one – getting the infection under control. Now what about the injury?”  
  
“We stick to the most prudent course of action. We cleaned the wound, but otherwise keep it as it is and we give him a chance and wait how his body reacts now that he is properly hydrated and is receiving the nutrition he needs. With the infection and the malnutrition, it most definitely was a case of chemical imbalances that slowed down the healing process so much.”  
  
“But you said there was a problem with the scar tissue?”  
  
Dr. Alvaro nods and a soft sigh escapes him. Apparently that problem with the tissue has not changed. The infection receding from it has not made it better, at least not to an extent where the healing process would have picked up yet. Which makes it all the more strange and slightly negligent that Dr. Alvaro has chosen to let Rafa deal with this all on his own without intervening. At least he could have tried a different solution... But as Roger is about to find out – it has never been about what Dr. Alvaro wants. It's all about what he has been asked to do... 

“Which is why I still favor a quick, not a prudent solution. That wound needs to be closed and it should happen sooner rather than later.”  
  
“What does that mean? What would you do?”  
  
“The best way to achieve a quicker healing process would be a skin graft. We transfer a piece of healthy skin from a different part of the body to the wound, put it in place and monitor it closely until it starts to take hold. The healing process is slow and it might not take, but I think it's the best course of action.”

There is something off about the way Dr. Alvaro speaks, something in his tone of voice Roger cannot quite place at first. It takes a couple more seconds, but then it dawns on him. The physician is not happy with the decision that has been made on Rafa's behalf. In his own medical opinion the less prudent but quicker way to deal with the injury would have been the one he favors – as he has just told Roger – but even with Rafa being his patient, there is only so much right and reason for him to make decisions.  
  
“You sound troubled.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because that option is off the table.”  
  
“But you just said…”  
  
Dr. Alvaro interrupts Roger before he can finish the very obvious question. He looks mildly irritated but he is not angry, certainly not at Roger. It's simply the fact, that this is an unusual case for the doctor. He rarely ever has to deal with family and he usually is able to make his own decisions in regard to his patients without having to ask anyone's consent. But Rafa is not some pitiable, nameless omega without a family. And that in itself is the reason for the way Rafa's treatment is proceeding right now.

“He can't consent, Roger. Not by himself. I can't wake him up to ask and even if I could he probably wouldn't be able to make much of any sense. So I had to rely on the closest relative available to make the decision for him. And she said to be prudent.”  
  
“Maribel... She said no?”  
  
“You have to take it up with her if you want a different outcome.”  
  
For just a second, Roger actually thinks about that option. And then he quickly throws the thought overboard. He has tried his utmost to avoid Maribel in the past week and a half and he certainly is not going to change that now in order to argue with her about the best course of action when it comes to Rafa's recuperation. He knows how she feels about him and he also knows she is wrong with the blame she puts on him. But he gets it. And him arguing with her in this difficult time will only make her feel worse – about herself and about her brother. Mari doesn't need it. She's Rafa's family after all and if there is one thing Roger is sure of, it's that she would never do anything to hurt her brother. Roger shakes his head no.

“No. This is her decision. And I… I trust her.”  
  
*#*  
  
Maribel has stopped twice on her way from Palma to Manacor. Not because she has to, but because she needs to. She has taken time to take a breath of fresh air, to think things through and come up with the right words to say to finally tell her parents about Rafa. It hasn't helped. She has not come up with anything. She is unprepared when she arrives back at home and she feels sick to her stomach, when she uses her keys and steps into their family home. There is nobody in the hallway when she enters, but she knows her parents are home. After all they know she is coming.

“Mama, Papa? I'm home!”

“Kitchen, dear!”

Her mother calls back to her and when Maribel follows her voice and enters the room, she finds both their parents sitting at the table that is already set for three. Her mother smiles at her when Maribel steps into the room. It smells of food and it is a delicious scent. She is pretty sure her mother has done this only for her. After all this is the first time she is home – really here, in her family home – in years. Her mother wants to make it special for her. Unfortunately Mari cannot appreciate the gesture.

“I made lunch...”

“I'm not... hungry.”

Mari drops down on the free chair opposite her parents and tries not to sigh. But she is being watched closely and her father frowns at her, seeing the defeated way she sits at the table with them. He gives her a small smile, but it never quite reaches his eyes. Of course his parents are happy to have her home but they are also curious. She hasn't been home in a decade and of course they want to know her reasons for this special occurrence. They want it to mean something and they have no idea how right they are.

“We are happy to see you of course but you sounded very... ominous on the phone. We were worried...”  
  
“I'm sorry.”  
  
“Why did you come home, Maribel?”  
  
Her father is impatient or maybe Mari is simply reading too much into his reaction. Either way, he is posing the one question she still has no answer to. But she cannot just sit here and not say anything. She needs to reply, needs to let her father – both her parents – know what has happened nine days ago... Her mind is still drawing a blank and her mouth reacts on instinct instead on intellect. She does the very first thing she can come up with... and it's not exactly a subtle way of dealing with the matter.

“I need to get a couple of Rafa's things. Clothes and stuff...”  
  
“Why?!”  
  
“For him to wear.”

The silence that follows her statement is absolute and it feels like the temperature in the room has dropped quite a few degrees very suddenly. Her parents share a look with one another, but they don't say anything. Her mother looks... devastated. And her father is practically trembling with fury. It shows in his facial features – hard and drawn – in his eyes – burning with rage – and in his voice – trembling and low and with every word spoken careful and slow and measured.   
  
“This... is not an amusing thing to say.”  
  
“It's not meant as a joke.”

Mari can barely look at her parents, telling them she certainly doesn't mean to be amusing. Her mother still hasn't said a word, but she looks very close to tears right about now. Her father tries to look composed, but his hands are balled into fists now and the fire in his eyes looks like it's about to rage out of control. This time the trembling to his voice makes his words almost incomprehensible. There is no surprise there. Because even after a decade saying the truth – or what his parents still believe to be true – out loud, still hurts unimaginably. And Mari is here to take that pain away... 

“Your brother is dead.”  
  
“No. No, he's not. That... that's what I came here to tell you...”

And she does tell them – the whole story. She tells them how Roger has asked her to join the response team to go to Barcelona, tells them about the abandoned clinic, tells them how they had found the omegas hidden away in the basement. And then she tells them about their son, tells them about Rafa and how desperately ill he has been. She tells them about taking him home to Paris, about Dr. Alvaro doing everything in his power to save Rafa's life and how he has managed to battle through.

She takes her time, tells them certain things in detail but leaves out other, more gruesome facts. They don't need to know about the two dead omegas, about the sight, the smell... She does tell them about Rafa's fever and infectious illnesses but leaves out the details about his injuries and what Dr. Alvaro has assumed from them what her brother has gone through. When she is finished, there is a long, eerie silence in which one could hear a pin drop. It is her mother who finally ends that silence, her voice cracking when she speaks.

“How could you keep this from us?!”

“I... I had to. He was very sick when we first found him and our doctor at the clinic in Paris, he wasn't sure if... if Rafa would be okay. I wanted to wait until... until I knew for sure. Now I do. He will be okay.”

Her parents share a look again and Mari can practically see how they reach a decision – yet again without ever exchanging a word – and determination suddenly shines on her father's face as he looks at her again. Mari's heart clenches painfully in her chest. She knows what they are about to tell her, knows it even though neither her mother nor her father have said a single word to her yet. They don't stay silent for much longer and it is her father who states what they want to do, his voice so firm and determined, there is no room for discussion left. And still that is exactly what Mari does.

“We will come back with you.”

“You can't.”

“What was that?”

Her father's voice has a scary undertone now – cold and almost menacing. Something that she has never heard from him ever before, not even when she and Rafa had been children and when they had done something wrong. Of course she understands the emotion behind her father's words and he actually manages to impress her. But he does not intimidate her – maybe because of the fact that he is beta and she is alpha or maybe simply because there is no way she can give her parents what they want. She gives them a sympathetic look and tries to keep her voice level. It's hard though. Telling them no is almost physically painful...

“You can't come back with me. Not right away... Rafa, he... he's been through a lot and I don't know... how he is doing... how he is feeling... I don't want to push him. I don't want to make anything worse. We need to give him time...”

“You expect us to stay here, while our son - our son, who we thought was dead no less – is sick and hurting and alone miles and miles away from us? You expect us to sit idly by and not see him at all?! You expect us to accept the fact that Rafael is alive and that we have been grieving for him for all this years for no reason whatsoever and now that we know the truth, we cannot be there for him?”

“Yes. All that.”

They ask relevant and very important questions and they are irritated and emotional and that is their right. But still Mari knows she will be able to convince her parents, because she has the one argument at hand that will achieve exactly that, the one argument they will be unable to say anything against and that will mean more than any of their previous statements ever could. Her argument is her brother.

“How can you even ask this of us?!”

“Because it's what Rafa needs.”


	14. Sascha & Stefanos

*At the same time in Paris*  
  
Of the past nine days since Sascha has returned from Barcelona, he has slept through only three of the nights. The others have been riddled with nightmares and Stefanos isn't even sure that the three nights in which he has slept through have been peaceful ones. Sascha simply hasn't woken up from his dreams on those nights, but that doesn't mean they have been peaceful.  
  
Still – even with all the sleepless nights and the nightmares and his overall bad mood and tiredness – Sascha stubbornly refuses to seek the help of a therapist. He has pretty much hidden himself away in his apartment without ever going to work or leaving it for any other reason. The one and only thing he has cared about when it has come to the outside world has been food… and the well-being and progression of Maribel’s brother.  
  
So Stefanos has been a good friend and has provided Sascha – with both sustenance and information, all the while sticking to his usual routine of going to work in the morning, returning – after a stop over at the grocery store – in the afternoon, spending the evening with Sascha and a sleepless night at the other men’s side, trying to keep the nightmares at bay, and soothing him back into a calmer sleep if chasing the bad dreams away doesn’t work.  
  
It’s taking a toll, Stefanos knows that. He has been sporting the same persistent headache for three days now, he is sleep deprived and grumpy and he needs a good night’s rest. But Sascha is only making matters worse with his stubborn refusal to seek help and at some point, Stefanos knows that he either has to try to force the German or leave him to fend for himself. He cannot be the keeper of Sascha’s sleep for the rest of their days.  
  
Sometimes – especially when Sascha is in a good mood throughout the day – when he smiles at Stefanos returning home after work or when they sit down together at the kitchen table for dinner in a perfectly domestic scene, Stefanos finds himself questioning, if there is an ulterior motive to Sascha’s behavior. They aren’t one, but they pretty much act like a couple – even share the same bed – and even though he can tolerate it, Stefanos feels anything but comfortable with the situation.  
  
But then the nightmares come and leave little to no doubt, that Sascha doesn’t keep him here because he wants to but because he needs to. They are always the same, at least that is what Sascha tells him, always about that basement in the abandoned clinic in Barcelona, always about the two dead omegas. It’s the same memory turning into a nightmare every time, just the horrors of the nightmares vary. Sometimes the corpses move, sometimes they try to talk to Sascha… and sometimes they attack.  
  
Those have been the worst nights of them all. Waking from the nightmare is easy enough. Sascha does that kicking and screaming and in a cold sweat. But shaking the nightmare, convincing him it has been just a dream and that he is safe, that is a lot more difficult. The very first time it had happened – on the third night after the mission – Sascha had been sure Stefanos was just another figment of his imagination out to hurt him. It had been more than an hour before he had fully calmed down and had trusted Stefanos’ words that he meant the other man no harm. Needless to say they hadn’t gone back to sleep that night…  
  
There had been better days in between, but today has been a particularly bad one again. Sascha has had the gruesome nightmare of the putrid corpses attacking him again. Stefanos spots a rather large bruise on his arm from where the German has accidentally hit him while the younger man had tried to shake Sascha from his nightmare. On top of that the headache is still plaguing him, making him irritable… and pale. To anyone at work paying close attention, it must seem like he is suddenly in an abusive relationship with his change in pallor and the ominous bruises he has started showing up with…  
  
Luckily nobody at work had asked him about it. They had however asked him about Sascha’s whereabouts by now and Stefanos had told them he was sick. The only one in on the truth, is Roger, but he really doesn’t care at the moment. All he cares about is Rafa and Stefanos certainly doesn’t blame him for that. But it leaves a lot of the charity’s work and responsibility in Stefanos’ hands and he really doesn’t feel comfortable with it. It has cost them a sponsor today… or at least Stefanos assumes it has been a factor. The rather prickly entrepreneur had wanted to talk to the head of the charity, Roger hadn’t been available and at some point Stefanos had lost his patience with him. And now that money was gone.  
  
As if all that hadn’t been bad enough already, he had then received a text message from Maribel, telling him that she is leaving for home on a moment’s notice and for him to keep an eye on her brother while she is gone. Apparently Dr. Alvaro is about to wake Rafa up, Maribel finally has decided to talk to her parents and Stefanos is supposed to pick up the pieces… She hasn’t even told him in person, that’s what gets him the most… and he does not show up at the clinic before he goes back home to Sascha. If something were wrong with Rafa, he would know. Dr. Alvaro would have called and Roger would be running around like a headless chicken.  
  
He returns back to Sascha’s apartment with ingredients for dinner and even though he is sleep deprived, Sascha seems to feel better. At least he is smiling and he helps Stefanos cook and really digs in when they eat. He is chatty, almost a little overly excited and after dinner they watch a movie and then a second one. It is close to midnight when Stefanos suggests that it’s time for bed – after all he has work in the morning – when things go slightly awry.   
  
“We really should get to bed. I have an early sponsorship meeting tomorrow and as Roger is no help with that at the moment, I need to be on time and at my best. I need some sleep.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Sascha is nonchalant and sounds very much determined when he rejects Stefanos' proposal without a word of explanation. Of course he doesn’t have to explain. The Greek knows perfectly well what Sascha’s problem is. But they have had this conversation before and Sascha simply doesn’t listen to him. He only ever tells Stefanos he is afraid of the nightmares, but he doesn’t go into detail, doesn’t talk about the mission that has caused all this and refuses any professional help offered. So Stefanos has decided to ignore Sascha’s objections until the other man finally sees reason. Of course he sticks to that plan tonight as well.  
  
“What do you mean, no? It’s late.”  
  
“I can't go to sleep.”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous, Sascha. Just come to bed.”  
  
“I'll dream again...”  
  
“I'll wake you if need be.”  
  
Stefanos tries for a smile, but he is pretty sure it looks more like a grimace if anything. He is sick and tired of those nightly horrors, sick and tired of the need to wake Sascha, simply because the younger man refuses any other help than the Greeks and even in that regard, Stefanos is more of a watch dog and a punching bag, than an actual aid and support. It’s all the more surprising when Sascha shakes his head and actually opens up to Stefanos just a little, his carefully hidden desperation shining through for just a moment.  
  
“I can't do this anymore, Stef... I can't go to bed every night, afraid of my own dreams. This has to stop.”  
  
“Are you finally ready to talk to the counselor?”  
  
For just a moment, Stefanos is actually hopeful. Maybe the German is seeing reason and is finally aware of the fact, that he needs to talk to somebody who is actually qualified to help him – somebody other then Stefanos. But Sascha stays very much silent and he looks anywhere but at Stefanos. The Greek feels his hope evaporate and disappear as quickly as it has come. He tries one last time, tries to coax the German, tries to get him to answer. But he does not get the answer he has hoped for.  
  
“Sascha?”  
  
“I feel ridiculous, okay! I mean the people on the response team, they deal with stuff like this all the time... and here I am whining about one bad experience...”  
  
“The people on the response team are highly trained and they do go to talk to the counselors after missions. Actually it is mandatory for them. It keeps them sane. You on the other hand should never have gone with them, you never should have seen the things you saw and you should damn well get over your stupid pride and get the help you need!”  
  
“I don’t need any help!”  
  
“Of course you do! You have barely slept through the night since you came back. You have debilitating nightmares. You are scared of your own sleep, damn it! How is that not grounds for need of help?!”

Stefanos feels he poses a very important and utterly relevant question here, but Sascha simply shakes his head. He doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to have this conversation. He is glad when he is not reminded of his little problem, but Stefanos keeps on pushing, has been pushing him ever since the nightmares have first started. Sascha still feels his reaction to what has happened in Barcelona is a normal one. All he needs is a little more time. 

“I can deal with this…”  
  
“You can’t! That’s precisely the problem!”

It's the same damn argument all over again and Sascha is sick and tired of defending himself to Stefanos. He knows it's his own fault – after all he has asked Stefanos to stay and be there for him. The Greek is simply trying to do that wish justice. But at the same time he is trying to guide Sascha and push him into something he really doesn't want to do. And now – that Sascha has made his very own, independent decision and it doesn't coincide with what Stefanos feels is right – the Greek is angry with him. It's simply not fair. He doesn't like to call himself that, doesn't like to admit it, but Sascha is a victim here. He doesn't want to or deserves to be treated like an aggressor.  
  
“What the hell are you yelling at me for?! I didn’t do anything wrong!”  
  
“You’re doing EVERYTHING wrong!”  
  
“Why the fuck are you so angry with me?!”  
  
“Because you're hurting yourself!”  
  
They are yelling at each other full force now and with every heated word exchanged, they have closed the gap between them. Like stepping up to one another is actually putting more emphasis on what they both have to say and will be in some way use- and helpful in getting their point across and convincing one another of the other's opinion. By the time they have finished their yelling match, they are only inches away from one another, both of them flushed ad breathing heavily from all the shouting they have done.

They have both said what they have wanted to say, they have... shared their opinion and have argued their point and now there is nothing left to say. It is eerily silent between them all of a sudden, the tension between them so palpable it feels almost like the air between them is sizzling, like it is heavy with electricity. Sascha can feel Stefanos' breath on his cheek, can feel the heat of the other's man's body radiate off of him. And then Stefanos closes that last little gap between them all of a sudden... and kisses him.

It's a passionate, desperate almost violent kiss, but Sascha is unable to do anything about it. He doesn't step back, doesn't pull away, doesn't push Stefanos and tells him to fuck off. He simply lets it happen. Feels the younger man's lips on his, feels his warmth, is engulfed by his scent. Especially Stefanos' scent is a lot more prominent and potent... and alluring all of a sudden. It's just a fraction of a second until Sascha makes a decision and then he kisses Stefanos back. Obviously it's the wrong thing to do, because the second he pushes his lips against the other man's and lets his tongue wander, the Greek suddenly pulls back, gasps and takes a hasty step back, almost like Sascha has slapped or burned him... Stefanos' eyes are wide, his features pale – almost ashen – and his breath comes in short, quick gasps as he shakes his head in disbelief and whispers more to himself than to the German.

“I… I’m sorry…”  
  
“What for? This was… nice.”  
  
“No…”  
  
Sascha tries to assure the younger man, but it backfires royally. He means what he says. He has enjoyed the kiss - even though he is certainly not gay and even though Stefanos is nothing more but a friend to him – and he doesn't want the moment to end. There is something about this, some sort of... magic and Sascha wants it back. But instead of convincing Stefanos to step back up to him, the younger man retreats even further. If at all possible, Stefanos pales even more and then he turns and practically flees from the kitchen. Stefanos is running away from him and Sascha needs a moment to even realize that fact.

By the time he does and his body follows his mind screaming at him to move, Stefanos is already at the door to his apartment – about ready to leave. Sascha hurries after him, manages to grab the younger man by his upper arm, but the Greek squirms out of his grasp almost immediately, movements erratic and eyes still wide with fear and desperation and utter embarrassment. He grabs for the door handle, opens it and Sascha tries to stop him once more – with words this time instead of with a physical altercation.  
  
“Stef, wait, please! Don’t go like this. Let’s just talk about this…”  
  
But Stefanos doesn't stop, doesn't listen, doesn't give Sascha another chance to keep him here. He has to leave, has to get out of this apartment, out of the building and as far away from Sascha as possible. This has been wrong, it was not supposed to happen and he has no idea what has gotten into him. It has been the tension of the moment, the...heat of it all and Stefanos has allowed his instinct to take over. His feelings, his hormones have ruled over his rational mind and now he has made a gigantic mistake. He has kissed an alpha...

The one thing he has never wanted to happen, the one thing he has always dreaded, it has happened. He is an omega and he has kissed an alpha... Now he is exactly the person his father has always wanted him to be. Now he has done the one thing his family thinks is his destiny anyway. He has made himself dependent... This is wrong, it's all wrong... Stefanos feels about ready to cry and even the fresh air that hits him when he finally reaches the ground floor and steps out of the building, doesn’t help much. He takes a deep breath, but his feelings are still swirling, his mind is still reeling and there is only one thing he can say to describe this desolate situation he has managed to maneuver himself into.  
  
“Fuck…”


	15. Stefanos

*The next day*  
  
Sascha has tried to call him – on his cell, on his home phone, at the office and he has been persistent. But Stefanos has ignored every last one of those calls and he is not about to change his mind any time soon. He has made a godawful mistake and he needs to remedy that – right away. The only way to achieve that is to go back to the way things were before, to the way his life has been before Sascha has ever come to Paris. In order to do that, he needs to cut Sascha out of his life – as hard and as painful as that is.  
  
He has one advantage – even though it is definitely not nice to use it like this – because Sascha will not leave his apartment. Ever since the events in Barcelona, he has not been outside even once and Stefanos is pretty sure the other man is not going to change his behavior in that regard now. Especially as he has to deal with his problems – and his nightmares – all on his own now. Stefanos feels guilty for leaving Sascha alone like this. But he has to. He has to forget about Sascha…  
  
He tries to focus on something else instead and that something is the very favor Maribel has asked of him. Taking care of Sascha these last couple of days, he has neglected his other friends rather appallingly. Now is the chance and time to remedy that. Roger isn’t here today and Stefanos dimly remembers an appointment with a sponsor in Lyon, who has refused to come to Paris and that the Swiss had been unable to reschedule. With Mari out of town as well, that means Rafa is all alone at the clinic today. Sounds like the perfect time for a visit.  
  
ICU is as quiet and efficient as it always is whenever Stefanos has come here before. But something seems off. Maybe it’s just him and his own feelings that are still trying to cope with the near disaster of last night. But the nurse’s reaction is subdued when he greets her and then Stefanos spots Dr. Alvaro at the far end of the corridor leading to the patient rooms, actually leaning against the wall. Even from a distance the doctor looks pale… and a cold, hard knot of dread forms deep in Stefanos’ stomach. Something is wrong here…  
  
He hurries down the corridor, hurries to reach the physician and from up close, Dr. Alvaro looks even worse. The doctor isn’t aware of Stefanos’ presence until the younger man is standing pretty much right in front of him and only then does Dr. Alvaro make a – half hearted – effort to straighten himself and move away from the wall his back is leaning against. But he still looks alarmingly pale and shaken and it takes a conscious effort from Stefanos' side to try and be both patient and gentle.  
  
“Doctor? You look like you've seen a ghost. What happened?”  
  
“I... I woke my patient from his induced coma...”  
  
Stefanos can’t help but frown at the response. Not only because he doesn’t have the faintest clue, why Rafa waking from his coma would have left the doctor so shaken, but because this is not the agreement the doctor has made with Maribel. His friend might not have elaborated a lot in the text message she has sent him, but Maribel has been absolutely clear, that she and Dr. Alvaro have spoken about her brother’s wake up process and that Maribel is supposed to be here when Rafa finds his way back into consciousness. As Stefanos has assumed earlier already – something is wrong here and he wants to get to the bottom of it.  
  
“I thought you were supposed to wait? Isn't that what you and Maribel agreed on? To wait until she returns from Mallorca, from talking to her parents?”  
  
“I did, actually. She's supposed to be back tomorrow morning and the sedatives we gave her brother to keep him unconscious should have taken just as long to run their course. He shouldn't have woken up already... but he did.”  
  
“But that is good news, right? Did he make sense when he woke up? Did you talk to him? I should go call Mari and Roger and Carlos...”  
  
“No! No... You really shouldn't.”  
  
Dr. Alvaro’s reaction is sudden and so vehement, it is almost violent. Stefanos feels that cold hard knot in the pit of his stomach tighten. It’s physically painful now. It’s only now that he realizes Dr. Alvaro has been very vague on Rafa’s wake up process. Maybe something has gone wrong with it, maybe there has been a problem, some sort of complication. Stefanos has no clue, because the physician hasn’t told him yet. Whatever it is, it has obviously affected both him and the head nurse deeply though.  
  
Somehow Stefanos cannot imagine there is a physical problem. Dr. Alvaro and his staff have dealt with a lot of abused and seriously injured omegas over the years. They are used to the horrors of the physical abuse and they are very much professional and seasoned when it comes to dealing with those. This seems to be something different entirely and even if it is none of his business really – as he is neither Rafa’s friend nor family – Stefanos wants to know. After all Mari has asked him to keep an eye on her brother and he can only do that, if he has all the facts straight.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“I tried to talk to him, tell him where he is, what happened to him and who I was. But he wouldn't listen... His reaction was... purely instinctual. All he could make sense of was the fact that he was in a hospital room with a bunch of tubes and needles sticking out of him and some beta doctor trying to talk him into believing that he would be alright. Add to that the pain of the injuries and the lingering confusion from the sedatives... I don't think he realized he was in a safe place.  
  
He attacked me... or he tried at least. He's too weak for much of anything as of yet. But what little fight he did manage to put up threatened to rip the newly put in stitches to the surgical wound from the c-section and I couldn't let that happen of course. I tried to talk him down, tried to make him see he was safe, but he was too... scared to even listen to me. I had to have a nurse and an orderly help me to restrain him in order to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself any further...”  
  
Dr. Alvaro is calm and factual when he tells Stefanos what has happened, but there is a soft tremble to his voice that speaks volumes of how hard it is for the doctor to retell the events. Stefanos has been listening intently and his initial sympathy has turned into dread and horror all too quickly. He understands the necessity for the doctor's actions, but Dr. Alvaro has to know that he shouldn't have done this and has probably destroyed any speck of trust that ever could have build up. Of course they can't risk Rafa hurting himself, but as of yet, they are no better than the people, who have held the Spaniard captive for years on end…  
  
Of course Stefanos can only speculate and assume. He has no idea of the details of the life Rafa has lived while a prisoner at that clinic in Barcelona. But there is no doubt he has been exactly that – a prisoner. And now – no matter how often Dr. Alvaro claims it's all for the Spaniard's best and a necessity – he is exactly that yet again. Confined and restrained against his will, dealing with pain and with yet another doctor acting on his behalf and telling him it's what is best for him. To Rafa it must feel like he has never left the clinic... Maybe that's exactly it. Maybe Rafa believes he is still in the hands of his captors. Stefanos takes a shaky breath.  
  
“Oh dear lord... Doctor... You should have known not to do that... He was a... prisoner for more than a decade. A captive at the mercy of doctors doing exactly what you just did when they were not happy with him...”  
  
“I know, I know. But there was no other choice left. I couldn't get close enough to sedate him and I couldn't just leave him be. We would have risked every last piece of progress we have made with his recovery process so far. I had to...”  
  
“I assume it didn't go well?”  
  
Stefanos can't help the sarcasm dripping from his voice. It's a rhetorical question at best because he already knows Rafa's reaction has been a bad one. Why else would the nurse and the doctor be so rattled? But as it turns out, it is far worse than Stefanos could even imagine. He is sure there has been a fight, a violent reaction and he isn't completely wrong. But there is more to it than that... and Dr. Alvaro is very much contrite and deeply embarrassed. Even with all his experience in dealing with hurt and traumatized omegas, Rafa has obviously managed to surprise him – in the worst of ways.  
  
“He fought us tooth and nail with everything he had to give until the moment the restraints were in place and the he just... stopped. I have rarely ever seen such a reaction. We've had cases like that before. Cases of omegas, who have been so deeply traumatized that if they are put into a situation they cannot escape from, they withdraw back into themselves. But I have rarely ever seen a case this severe. It's almost like a catatonic state... and as of now I have no idea how to pull him back from that...”  
  
If there has been any room for hope, that maybe the scene playing out between Rafa and the medical staff hasn’t been all that bad, Dr. Alvaro has just crushed it with the unpleasant truth. From everything the doctor has told him, Rafa has tried what he could to protect himself – probably a reaction born out of years of bitter experience. Judging by the state the response team had found the other man in, his captors certainly hadn't cared for his health and well-being too much. But still there is no telling, if this is a normal reaction… or something irreversible… Either way. It sounds bad.  
  
“What are you trying to say, Dr.? You... broke him?”  
  
“You can't break something that is already broken...”  
  
Dr. Alvaro sounds emphatic more than defeated but still anger bubbles up in Stefanos almost immediately. This time it is mainly due to his own swirling feelings and the utter embarrassment he has felt since last night ever since the kiss with Sascha… Another broken omega – that is how this sounds like and Stefanos hates the way Dr. Alvaro seems to pretty much exclude and negate any chance for Mari’s brother to ever return to some semblance of normal… It simply isn’t fair. They are not sick or branded or in any way worth less than all the other people out there. They simply are what they are and nobody should have a right to judge, condemn or demean them because of that – least of all a medical professional sworn to do no harm…  
  
“How very poetically put. I'm sure his sister and former lover will appreciate the analogy!”  
  
“I didn't mean to...”  
  
“You said he reacted to your status, your scent?”  
  
Stefanos interrupts Dr. Alvaro right in the middle of his attempt at an apology. He doesn’t want to hear it and it doesn’t help the situation anyway. This is not about guilt or responsibility, this is about doing what is best for Maribel’s brother. Right now Rafa is scared – so much so that he is trying to hide in any way possible – and it is their job, their calling to make him feel safe. Dr. Alvaro has failed in that regard… and Stefanos is willing to pick up the slack.  
  
“I'm very sure of it. It was the first thing he did before ever blinking his eyes open. Taking a deep breath... and gauging the danger by the scents he was surrounded by.”  
  
“Do you think another omega could help?”  
  
“Hypothetically, I guess so. Why... You? You want to go in there?”  
  
“If you think it could help.”  
  
“It certainly can't hurt.”  
  
It’s not exactly a helpful or enthusiastic answer, but it’s not a rejection either. Dr. Alvaro is very obviously grasping at straws here, because Stefanos is neither a medical professional, nor does he know the first thing about psychology or how to deal with somebody who has gone through severe mental trauma. But he is omega… and that makes him the best choice for a confidant right now. From everything Dr. Alvaro has told him, maybe even Maribel would be a bad choice for a visitor. Because she is alpha… and to her brother that means only pain.  
  
Walking down the corridor to Rafa’s room, Stefanos feels confident. The second his hand reaches for the door handle, doubts settle in and Stefanos calls himself a damn idiot. What the hell has he been thinking?! He has no place going into that room and trying to convince a traumatized man 12 years older than him and who he doesn’t even know, to trust him… Omega or not, they don’t know the first thing about one another…  
  
But Maribel has trusted him to take care of her brother in her absence and that is exactly what Stefanos plans to do – even if he makes a fool of himself in the process. He pushes the handle of the hospital room door down and steps inside, actually holding his breath as he does so. On first look, nothing seems to have changed. Rafa is still in bed, still unmoving, still very much pale and he doesn’t so much as move his head in Stefanos' direction as he carefully steps into the room.  
  
But there is no doubt about the fact, that the older man is awake. Because his eyes are open – even though averted and not focused on anything – and his hands are balled into loose fists and holding onto the soft material of the bed sheets, like they are a lifeline. There is a very soft tremble to the older man’s fingers and Stefanos can only assume, it’s an involuntary physical reaction to the situation the other man is forced to deal with. Stefanos takes a careful step closer to the bed and finally detects the restraints Dr. Alvaro has been talking about, encircling the older man’s wrists and keeping him in place. Stefanos swallows hard. He doesn’t even want to begin to imagine how Rafa must feel… He himself feels uncomfortable at only the sight of this… confinement and he is mentally stable – at least most of the time and pretty much.  
  
His next step brings him within touching distance of the other man, but Stefanos keeps his hands to himself. He might be omega and Rafa might not be reacting to him like he is a threat, but still he would never dare touch the older man. Not with everything that has happened to him… It’s strange though, talking to this stranger, who doesn’t even look at him and whose only indication for being awake and alive are the facts that his eyes are open and his chest is moving as he breathes… Stefanos clears his throat. He half expects Rafa to flinch. But nothing happens.  
  
“Hey there. I… I’m here to… help you, I guess. I don’t mean any harm. But the doctor did send me to check on you. He said you were… not happy about him being here. He said there was a problem with his scent… He doesn’t mean to hurt you in any way, either. Okay? We’re all here to help.”  
  
Stefanos tries to keep his voice calm and soothing, tries to be friendly and helpful… almost as if he were talking to a scared child, who has managed to lose his parents in a row of aisles at a supermarket. Maybe he isn’t that far from the truth, even if he doesn’t like the analogy. Rafa is definitely scared… and he is just as much lost – to his family, his friends… and to himself. Trying not to antagonize him or scare him even more is the least Stefanos can try to do. But it doesn’t have the desired effect. Rafa has yet to look at him. But at least the other man isn’t flinching or trying to squirm away from him. At least he sees no threat in the younger Greek. That is something Stefanos supposes. Or maybe it’s just that… catatonic state that keeps Rafa oblivious. Stefanos sighs softly and decides to try a different approach.  
  
“I can get those off, but I need to be sure you won't try to hurt me... or anyone else coming to look out for you. And I need you to relax and stay in this bed. You can't get up. You can't even try. Okay?”  
  
There is no response even now that Stefanos offers to free the older man from the restraints keeping him prisoner in this hospital room. The young Greek can’t help the stab of disappointment going through him. He has expected this show of good faith and trust to be worth something. But Rafa still doesn’t react to him, doesn’t look, doesn’t so much as flinch. He’s lost and locked inside himself and Stefanos isn’t even sure the Spaniard has heard him… or is able to make sense of what he tells him… There is really only one way to find out.  
  
“Here goes nothing...”  
  
Stefanos is careful when he reaches out a hand to loosen the restraints, but of course he cannot avoid touching the older man. Rafa still doesn’t look at him but that soft, barely detectable trembling to his hands intensifies just a little. It’s the only physical reaction Stefanos gets. The older man’s skin is cool to the touch, but given the stress Dr. Alvaro has put him through and his still rather weakened state, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. Stefanos tries to hurry and yet be gentle, not wanting to touch and crowd the older man any more than necessary.  
  
The expected catharsis after loosening the restraints, that Stefanos has hoped for, does not come. Rafa doesn’t say anything, doesn’t thank him, doesn’t talk to him and still doesn’t look at him. But the soft trembling to his hands seems to have stopped. It’s a small victory, but still Stefanos takes the win… and decides to retreat. For the Spaniard – who has been sick and trapped all alone in that basement with two dead bodies for weeks on end – any kind of contact with the outside world, with other people, is probably too much already… and Stefanos decides not to push.  
  
Dr. Alvaro is waiting for him, when Stefanos leaves the room again. He is still a little way down the corridor, which surprises the Greek. He has expected the doctor to watch from the large window to the patient room… But then again he has probably decided it’s a bad idea. The two omegas have been in no need for spectators… It leaves Dr. Alvaro in a unique and rather unfamiliar situation – with him having to be the one to ask somebody else about his patient’s well-being and state of mind.  
  
“How did it go?”  
  
“I’m not sure… He didn’t attack me, so that’s good. But he didn’t talk to me or look at me either. He seems… lost.”  
  
“That’s because… he is.”


	16. Rafa

The touch has been gentle, careful almost and that is a fact he cannot wrap his mind around. Nobody has cared to be gentle to him. Not in a very, very long time. Of course they have cared for his well-being to some extent. They need him after all – to make money off of him. But most of all they need him to be obedient. And disobedience is punished – always. But even under the best of circumstances a... firm hand has always been preferred by his... caretakers.

A bruise, a cut or even a broken bone are not a problem... as long as there isn't any life growing inside of him and even in that case, as long as they don't harm the child, he has always been fair game to the people working at the clinic. Sometimes they claim to have reason, sometimes they are simply in a bad mood and need to vent their anger at somebody... He's not the only one to be mistreated, he knows that. But he's the only one subjected to this strange charade he cannot make sense of.

Why has there been an omega sent to talk to him and free him from his restraints? He doesn't know... What he does know is that the younger man had neither smelt of fear nor of sickness or desperation. He had simply smelled of omega – maybe with a strangely lingering sadness attached to him. But he has not been scared, he hadn't been bruised or otherwise mistreated and he hadn't been in hospital issued clothes. He had been... normal. And free to come and go as he pleases.

He had also claimed he didn't mean him any harm and that he was safe here in this new place that feels so oddly familiar to him. But he can claim a lot. There is no rhyme or reason to trust him. He doesn't know this younger man and even though he claims to be friendly and helpful, it could all be a ruse. After all the very same doctors and nurses that had restrained him in this bed and that kept on giving him god only knew what kind of medication had let this other omega into his room.

Maybe it's all a ploy. To gain his trust, to get him to make a wrong move... Maybe he's supposed to trust and believe the other omega only for the downfall to be more severe. He may not be tied to the bed any more, but that doesn't change the fact, that he is a prisoner in this room. He can't just go. The other omega has told him as much. He has told him he cannot leave this room... It makes no sense to him. None of this makes sense to him.

His return to consciousness has been a slow and confusing one and most of that confusion still lingers. He had been lost in darkness... and he has not expected to ever find his way back. He had welcomed the darkness when it had come for him. It had taken everything away. The pain, the smell, the loneliness... everything that had plagued and scared him had faded away into nothingness. He had been glad for the darkness. But now that has been taken from him as well.

He has to admit the doctor has been frantic to assure him he is safe and that he means to help him, not hurt him. But then again doctors have claimed wanting to help him for as long as he can remember. In the end all they have ever done, is to cut into him, to take the children growing inside of him away and pump him full of medication to either take the pain away or to make him compliant. One way or another, they have NEVER meant to help him. Why should this doctor be any different?

Rafael... the doctor had called him that, as he had frantically tried to convince him he is safe here in this place. There is a very vague... feeling assorted to the name, but that is where his memory leaves him alone in the dark to fend for himself. He cannot remember. Maybe one of the staff members has been called that, one of the nurses or doctors. Or maybe it has been an alphas name, one of the... clients they are servicing. Or maybe it's a different name entirely. Be that as it may, it means nothing to him. At least not in the context of this being his name.

But the implications are enormous and that means a LOT to him. Nobody has called him by name in... forever. In fact it has been too long to actually remember. Of course he has a name... but like so much else, it's lost in the darkness. 'Hey you' has been one of the nicer terms used to address him... He has been called names of course – but never nice ones. Descriptive words meant as insults – like 'tool' or 'incubator'. He hasn't minded those. Not in quite a while. At least when they call him names, they don't hurt him in other... more physical ways.

This doctor has not hurt him, not physically at least. He has restrained him to this bed, all the while claiming he is trying to make sure he doesn't hurt himself and that he needs to calm down in order for there to be a different solution. But he hasn't trusted this stranger, this beta in a lab coat looking just like all the other doctors claiming to act in his best interest while only ever caring for what they could gain from him... So he hadn't trusted him... and that doctor had put him in chains. Just like all the others.

At least in that regard his situation is familiar. Still, he cannot make sense of this whole mystery of a different place but with the same kind of doctors and nurses and pain and being confined to his room... Maybe it's a different form of punishment this time. Though he has no idea what he has done wrong. Maybe he wasn't supposed to welcome the darkness... But they had told him he was useless to them... They told him he was left to die... Why would they care about him now?

In the end he is back where he started before they have locked him in the basement and had left him there... The rooms are different, the people and their faces... The smell is different, but his situation hasn't changed. He is still a prisoner confined and told what to do. Maybe these people show concern and have made an effort to find a proper name for him, but he doesn't know them and he certainly doesn't trust them. Neither the beta doctor nor the omega playing nice. It's not the first time one of his fellow sufferers has betrayed his own kind...

But maybe he is wrong. Because one thing has definitely changed and it is only now that his thought process is functional again and that his restraints are gone again and his mind is no longer retreating in on itself, that he realizes it. The dull ache of want and need that has been a fixture in his life for years now, is suddenly gone. It has always been induced by medication. Medication to keep him in a constant state of near heat, with an extra dose enough to send him over the edge... and make him useful for any alpha – and his family – to use for their purposes. But now that feeling has vanished. It's nice... and very much unfamiliar and uncomfortable somehow. It's almost like he... misses it.

The pain is still there, even though it is definitely dulled by something. Maybe the beta doctor hasn't lied in that regard... Maybe he has actually given him something to help with the pain... That has rarely ever happened to him before. Only if absolutely necessary... and that has been a decision always at their discretion, always at their mercy... But now he – and the most acute and awful of his pain – are being taken care of... and it seems there is no gain for them from it... At least in that regard something is definitely different than before. Nobody has ever cared for his levels of pain before...

It has always been about usefulness before and he has been told – in no uncertain terms and weeks and weeks before already – that he is of no use anymore. He doesn't know exactly how long he has been in that basement. He has lost count of the days long before the darkness has come to claim him... Judging from the dull ache mostly centered around his midsection, he is pretty sure the injury that had the doctors claim him to be useless for their purposes still isn't healed. But it is being taken care of... and he is being properly medicated to make him feel – if not well – at least sensibly comfortable.

He can't see the catheter but he feels the pull of it, where the medical equipment is sticking out of his neck. And he has seen enough IV bags and infusers over the course of his life at the clinic to know what is in them. He knows enough names of medications to warrant him being a medical professional... at least when it comes to antidepressants, other psych meds and sedatives... These aren't that, though. He can tell. He knows the names by heart and the medication he is receiving right now is not meant to put him under or make his psyche compliant. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to think straight anyway.

He wants to know though – not out of curiosity, but for his own sense of certainty and safety. He needs to know what it is those new, strange doctors are pumping into him. The younger omega has told him not to move, but he needs to take a proper look at the IV bags and for that he simply has to move – if only to crane his neck a little. He is alone now, the omega has left and nobody is watching from the window. Maybe there is a camera system somewhere, but if there is, it is carefully hidden. Either way, he decides it is safe to try and take that look...

The second he finally allows himself to act on the freedom the other omega has returned to him, he regrets it almost immediately. He hasn't moved an inch until now, has barely even dared to so much as blink. But he feels safe and unwatched enough, with nobody else in his room or out in the corridor by the window. He is alone – or at least he feels that way - and he can risk it. The first step is to push himself into a slightly more seated position. It proves too much already...

He carefully flexes and unflexes his fingers that have still been loosely balled into fists ever since the other omega has – gently – touched him to undo his restraints. That much works well. But the second he tries to push himself into a more upright position to get a better look at the IV bags hanging on a pole to his left and running through a line of clear plastic tubing into a catheter attached to his neck vein, the dull pain increases exponentially. It lances through him like somebody has stabbed him with a red hot knife, takes his breath away and makes it impossible to think about anything else.

He is no stranger to pain, but he hasn't felt it in a while. Not since the darkness has overtaken his mind and has taken everything with it as well. Obviously the medication is only meant to help him to the extent the doctor wants.... Or maybe the beta has lied and he has not taken care of his injuries after all. He could check, of course, but for that he has to move the blanket covering him up to his chest and he has to sit up straighter in order to get a look at the injury that has sent him into darkness in the first place.

He can't do that. He doesn't have the strength... Maybe that is what the other omega has been trying to tell him in the first place. It's not that he is supposed to keep lying down because that is what is expected of him as part of his imprisonment at this new clinic. He's supposed to lie still, because it's what his body needs. His injury is still too severe, his condition too bad and he is too weak. He couldn't get up even if the damn room was on fire...

Maybe nobody around here has lied to him and they all mean to help him get better. But he is unwilling to believe that. He is unwilling to trust. Not just like that. What he can do however, is to observe. He can watch the doctor and the nurses and can keep a close eye on how they treat him, now that he is awake and aware of what they do. He can watch the other omega... if he ever comes back to him. Judging from that, he can make a decision... But he holds out little hope. So far – at least as far as he can remember – trust has never been a good investment for him...

There is one other thing he can do though, something he hasn't tried in over a decade. He can try to run, try to flee this strange place that wants him to believe he is safe here. But if this is indeed a place that wants him to be good, wants him to be free, they should allow him to leave it. Of course he will not ask. Asking for anything he needs has never been a good idea either. It has always been taken as a sign of weakness. But he can get better, he can gather his strength and then he can try to find a way out of here... It has been a long, long time since he has last tried, but that doesn't mean he cannot try again. Maybe this time he will be successful...

It will be a while, he knows that, and a lot can happen in that time. These people can change their mind, maybe there will be others – working in other shifts – that will be less lenient towards him... If he does something wrong, if he misinterprets his situation at any point, he might end up getting punished after all... and then he will have to start from scratch... if he ever even gets a second chance. But it is a chance, a real chance, his first chance in forever. All he needs is time.


	17. Maribel & Carlos

Maribel has not had the best of days ever since she has met with her parents. Her parents hate her... or maybe that is just how she feels. But they are disappointed in her and they despise her for the impossible decision she has forced on them. She has stayed home in her old room for the night, but she has not felt welcome. She is sure her parents are discussing what she has asked of them and she is also very sure they are not happy with it. She has a restless night at her family home, worries about her parents, worries about her brother, and when she gets up in the morning, she feels awful.

Her mother is not at the kitchen table when Maribel goes to grab a cup of coffee. But her father is there, seated at the table, nursing his own cup of coffee – and nothing else - looking pale and tired. He looks up when his daughter enters the room, but he doesn't greet her or wish her a good morning. What he does do is tell her facts she hasn't even asked about. There is reproach to his town of voice when he does.

“Your mother isn't feeling well. She decided to stay in bed.”

“Oh. Okay...”

“When will you leave for Paris?”

“I have a flight in the afternoon.”

It's a very factual conversation they have and Maribel hates every last second of it. She had finally been on the right path, had finally found a way back to her family and now all of that seems to be on the brink of destruction again. It shouldn't be. Her brother is alive and he will recover from his injuries. That should bring the family further back together... But instead they are being pulled apart again. Because Rafa's situation is a unique one... and that is very hard to deal with – for all of them. 

Right now they are not on the best of terms and it shows in her conversation with her father. He doesn't ask her if she wants company, doesn't ask if she needs to be taken back to Palma. It's not that he doesn't care... Deep down inside Mari knows her parents aren't really angry with her or are shunning her to punish her. They are simply overwhelmed by the situation and they are trying to find a way to cope, trying to find an outlet for their emotion. Right now that is anger and right now it is directed at her. She simply wants to make things better... but she doesn't know how. 

“I'm sorry...”

“You will call, when you are back? Tell us... tell us about your brother?”

“Of course!”

“Good.”

Her father doesn't care for her apology and as soon as Maribel assures him she will let their parents know how their first born son is doing, it seems her father has lost all interest in their awkward conversation. He gets up and Maribel does not expect him to stop or turn and she especially doesn't expect him – or her mother for that matter – to show up again before she leaves. But her father manages to surprise her, as he stops just short of the kitchen entrance and turns to face his daughter once more. But his voice never loses it's factual tone.

“Say goodbye before you leave.”

She doesn't, doesn't want to deal with her father's coldness or her mother's depression. She doesn't need to see the sadness and anger and disappointment in their eyes. She could probably talk and talk and talk – trying to explain her reasoning - until her jawbones lock and her lips are bleeding and still her parents could never understand why she does not want them to see their son – even now that they can be sure he will recover,even now that they know Rafa is alive and there is no more need for mourning but the best reason to rejoice. Of course they can't see the big picture, because they haven't seen what has happened to their son. One day they will – she will make sure of it – but not today.

*#*

Her plane out of Palma is delayed and she misses the train going into Paris from the airport by a mere couple of minutes. Mari is tired when she reaches the city, she is agitated and she knows it would be best to stop by her favorite restaurant, have some take out, get a bottle of wine, fill a bathtub with hot water and have a relaxing and calm evening in the confines and safety of her apartment and forget about this whole damn disaster of a trip home to his parents... 

But she cannot. With all the drama at home, she hasn't been able to keep in touch with Dr. Alvaro and she has no idea how her brother's wake-up-process has been going these last two days. She wants to check on him, wants to make sure there have been no complications or set backs. Above all she wants to see him, simply to make sure he is indeed still there and has not been just a figment of her imagination. With everything that has happened with her parents, with all their doubts and questions... she needs this reassurance.

ICU is sparsely staffed when she enters, but that doesn't surprise Mari much. It's a quarter to ten in the evening when she finally arrives at the clinic and shifts are about to change over. They are probably at the staff room, changing their clothes and passing on the events of the shift and which tasks and patients are still left to be taken care of. She doesn't mean to disturb anyone. After all she knows where her brother's room is and she knows he is still unconscious. She doesn't need any doctors or nurses to help or advise her.

She walks down the corridor and – just like every other time she has come to ICU in the last week and a half – she takes a quick look through the viewing window into her brother's room... and stops dead in her tracks like she has just walked into an invisible wall. The head of the bed is raised a little to allow for a semi seated position, which seems odd enough already. What stops her and gives her pause however, is the fact that Rafa has his eyes open. Her brother is awake... 

For just a second Maribel is sure she is dreaming. But the facts remain the same, even as she takes a second, closer look now. Her brother's eyes are definitely open. He hasn't detected her yet, isn't aware of the fact that he is being watched, but even if their eyes were to meet now, Mari isn't sure how she would react. For another long moment she stays rooted to the spot and then instinct takes over and instinct tells her to go be with her brother. 

Her rational mind – that has been put on the back burner and that Mari doesn't even remotely listen to – tells her to go and find Dr. Alvaro first, to have a complete picture of the situation. After all her brother wasn't supposed to wake up before Mari was back from her visit home to Mallorca. But she never even thinks of Dr. Alvaro. All that is on her mind is the fact that her brother is finally awake and alert and there for her to talk to. This is the moment she has been waiting for ever since they have found him back in Barcelona. 

Actually this has been the moment – the chance – she has been waiting for, ever since her brother has first disappeared. She has hoped and prayed for years and years and now those prayers have finally been answered. She wants to speak with her brother, needs to speak with him and she throws all caution and prudence to the wind. Rafa is her family after all, her own blood. That should count for something. Even after years and years of not seeing one another, of her believing him dead and of him probably believing his family to have abandoned and forgotten about him, that is still what they are. Family. And they can be that again, if only they give one another a chance. 

She takes two large steps and then her hand reaches out and touches the door handle. It feels cool and smooth underneath her fingers. All her senses seem to be heightened. She pushes the handle down, opens the door and steps into the room. The moment she enters, she is greeted by the familiar scent of her brother, something that has been lost to her for more than eleven years now. Tears start to prickle painfully right behind her eyes – of joy, of relief, of utter catharsis – but she fights them down. She needs to be strong, she needs to be happy and glad – for herself just as much as for her brother. 

Maribel takes a deep breath before ever even realizing what she is doing. This painfully familiar, long absent scent is almost like a balm to her, like a drug – long needed but never given to her. Now she has it back, just like it used to be. Somehow in his weakened state, with his desperate sickness and the unconsciousness of his mind, her brother's scent has been before. At least that is what Mari assumes has happened. She can only tell, that now it is different. 

The second the door softly falls closed behind her, her brother's gaze finally falls on her and his eyes widen. Mari smiles softly at him – sure that he has recognized her and that is what is showing in her eyes. She is blinded by her own emotions... Otherwise she would be aware it is fear, not recognition shining in her brother's eyes. But Mari is barely even able to hold on to her own composure. This moment has been a decade in the making... Her own voice sounds strange and slightly hollow to her own ears. But at least she manages to get out a reaction, manages to say her brother's name. 

“Rafa...”

*#*

It's Carlos first shift back at the clinic ever since Dr. Alvaro had asked – or more so forced – him to help out in Rafa's initial treatment. Carlos had needed a break after that, a chance to get away from it all. He has taken time off – still pessimistic and not wanting to be there and watch helplessly as Rafa's condition takes a turn for the worse and he loses the fight for his very life – and has spent it with his family. He has kept in touch of course, has spoken to the nurses' station at ICU in regular intervals and this way he knows his pessimism has not been warranted. Rafa has pulled through.

It's the first time in a long time Carlos goes to work both happy and excited. He can't wait for a chance to see Rafa – physically better and awake now – and have a chance to talk to him, see if there is any memory of Carlos being his friend once upon a time still left. He is actually earl – though only by a couple of minutes – when he arrives for night shift at ICU. His very first stop is supposed to be Rafa's hospital room, but he never makes it that far. 

On his way to Rafa's room, he comes across Maribel and the younger woman is very clearly in a state of distress. She has her back leaned against the wall and is seated on the linoleum floor – very much looking like her legs have simply given out on her and she has slid down that wall. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and her arms are wrapped tightly around them. She is white as a sheet, eyes wide and moist and judging from the streaks of moisture on her cheeks she has been crying. A painful stab rips right through Carlos' intestines. 

“Maribel, what's wrong? Is it your brother?! Is he alright?”

“My brother... You were right, Carlos. You were right all along...”

Her voice is low, monotonous and disembodied and she looks up at him for only just a second before casting her eyes down again. A soft shiver runs through her, seems to take a hold of her whole body for a long moment and then she takes a shaky breath, that speaks volumes of how hard she is trying to hang on to her composure. Whatever has happened that Carlos is not yet aware of, it has deeply rattled Maribel and given that her brother is still in ICU – and she is seated against a wall crying and making no sense – he can only assume something awful has happened to Rafa. But Maribel isn't helpful with information – not before and not now. 

“I don't... What do you mean?”

“He's gone...”

That knot still very much present in Carlos' stomach tightens and he feels rigid with that psychosomatic pain caused by his own lingering fear for Rafa yet again. The way Mari is talking – and the way she is sitting their all emotional and shaky – her words can mean only one thing. Her brother's condition has deteriorated... and he has died. Even the thought is simply too much to bear... Carlos has last spoken to Dr. Alvaro this morning and everything had been fine then... His focus shifts away from Maribel, as he does the one thing that will confirm his awful suspicions. He takes a look through the viewing window into Rafa's room, which he very much expects to be vacant... 

But Rafa is not only there in the room, he is actually awake, though Carlos can only tell by the fact, that he has scooted to the far edge of his hospital bed – as far away from the room's door as possible – and has curled up in a protective ball to the best of his ability. He could not do any of that, were he still unconscious or even just sleeping. Somehow Carlos doubts whatever has both siblings so rattled is a physical problem... and as Maribel is his only source for information at the moment, he lets his impatience out on her. 

“Damn it, Maribel – you're not making any sense! What the hell happened? What are you doing out here?“  
  
„I can't go back in there.“

“Why on earth not?! Your brother is finally awake and...”  
  
Carlos never gets the chance to finish his reproachful reply. Maribel shakes her head so vehemently, he falls silent and then the younger woman finally raises her head at him again, a mixture of fire and pure disappointment shining in her eyes. She lets go of her knees, stretches out an arm and points in the direction of her brother's room with an accusing finger, her voice shaking again, but with anger and disbelief instead of sorrow and defeat this time. 

„That. The person in there? It's not my brother.“  
  
„Don't be ridiculous. Of course he is!“

Carlos knows he has no right to defend Rafa like this, because he definitely doesn't have all the facts. He himself has been the one to point out to Mari, that there might be little left of the person she has once known as her brother and now the younger woman has given those words back to him. Apparently he has been more right than Carlos has ever wished to be. But then again, this is the first time in over a decade Mari has had a chance to talk to Rafa. Maybe she has been overeager. Maybe she has overwhelmed him. Maybe there is still a chance to right the wrongs that have left both siblings so emotionally agitated in this moment. But Mari leaves little room for that hope, as she explains to him what has come to pass.   
  
„He doesn't even recognize me. He has no idea who I am. The only thing he reacts to is my scent... and it sends him into fight or flight mode. All he sees in me is an alpha – a hostile force here to hurt him... He reacts purely on instinct. He tried to get away from me and when his injuries didn't allow for that, he... he snarled at me. Snarled... like a damn wounded animal backed into a corner...“

“I'm sure he was just... surprised. It can't be that bad.”

Carlos knows his reassurance is lame at best and not very convincing, but Maribel isn't even listening to him anyway. She is deeply lost in her own thoughts and they are quite bitter ones. Carlos knows from Dr. Alvaro, that Maribel has been home to talk to her family and judging by the fact that she is at ICU alone now, she has managed to convince her parents to give Rafa more time to adjust. She has been sensible in that regard, but still she has expected her brother to remember her without any problems or complications... As it turns out, it's not even about her botched meeting with Rafa. It's about the strain her brother's return to the world of the living has had on her whole family. 

“This is what I risked what little rapport and trust my parents and I had managed to rebuild for. I told them Rafa needed time. But time won't change anything... Only a damn miracle can. I never should have left, I never should have told them. I never should have come here and gone in there without talking to somebody on staff first. If only I had known...”

Carlos refrains from telling her, that she has known., that he has told her from the start that reality and her wishful thinking would most definitely not coincide when it came to her brother. But Mari doesn't need to hear this right now, she doesn't need his reproach. She feels guilty and disillusioned enough without his input. What he needs from Carlos is for him to be a good friend and to help her through. After all Rafa has only been awake for about a day and these are his first days fully aware after a serious illness and injury and with years of years of abuse forced on him. Of course his health, as well as his mental state and his ability to trust are fragile. Mari is definitely wrong in that regard – Carlos is sure more time will make things better. Eventually... 

“Come on, little one. Let's get you out of here, maybe get some tea into you and then you go home and sleep on it. We can try again tomorrow? I'll come with you.”

“I don't think that will change anything, Carlos.”

Mari grasps the hand Carlos offers to her and lets him pull her up on her feet again, but even though she reacts compliant, she shakes her head at his statement. She doesn't believe in a chance for change, but she doesn't have to. She has just gone through a disconcerting experience with her brother and – just like Rafa – she will need time to gain perspective. Carlos will be there for her through that. He will be there for both siblings – like he has been before, so many years ago. Right now he gives Mari a smile as he lays a hand around her shoulders. This time he is sure he manages to sound reassuring. 

“You won't know until you have tried.”


	18. Rafa, Carlos & Roger

It has been a day – only one day – for these people claiming to want only what is best for him to show their true colors. They have send an alpha to him... Only yesterday that young omega, who had freed him from his restraints had told him, that he would help him instead of harm him and now they have sent a new client to him, while he has been awake, alert and aware of his surroundings for only a little over a day. He is unwell, still receiving medication for his fever and his pain and whatever else is wrong with him and he has injuries that are not healed and make it impossible for him to so much as move in the damn hospital bed. But still they sent an alpha to him.

The woman has been kind, but she is not the first one to be kind to him and still exploit him in the end. He has talked to others like her before, women who desperately wanted a child despite being in a relationship that could never give them that. They had told him how sorry they were, how much they wished for a different outcome and another chance to get what they want. And in the end he had been used for their damn gain anyway. In the end they had been no different than any of the others... In the end they had all been monsters. Alphas meant pain, that was a staple and constant in his life for as long as he could remember. 

He has no idea what the woman has said. Only fragments of the things coming from her mouth had actually registered with him. She had spoken Catalan – unlike the doctor, who had spoken Spanish and the young omega, who has spoken English – but that certainly doesn't mean she is trustworthy. It only means they come from the same stretch of land. Not that he remembers. There are fragments and vague, pleasant feelings attached to the thought of home, but that is all. He doesn't know where he is from, where his family is, if he has siblings or cousins or even a girlfriend or wife. All he remembers is the life at the clinic... and there is little of substance their to produce anything but nightmares. 

This woman has talked about family and she has done so in that desperate, frantic, needy tone they all talk in, when they come to justify their actions, justify using him and taking advantage of the fact that he is a prisoner at the hands of unsympathetic captors. But he doesn't care for apologies or reasoning. He has given up on the hope to find somebody selfless and sympathetic enough to help him instead of exploit him a very long time ago... 

But he has learned something valuable here today. He has learned that even though he might no longer be trapped in the basement with the two dead, rotting and stinking corpses of the other omegas that had shared his fate, he is still very much a prisoner. And he has made a mistake – the mistake of letting his emotions, his rage at being betrayed and lied to yet again, win the better of him. He has tried his best to get away from the alpha woman and when that hadn't worked, he has used what little strength he has to use his voice to tell her to leave him alone. All he has managed is a snarl, but he has gotten his point across. The woman has left...

Nobody else has come since then. Nobody has tied him to his bed again, nobody has locked the door to his room, has come to yell at him or take away the medication that keeps his pain at bay. Nobody has come to punish him for scaring away a potential client. He is sure the reckoning for that is yet to come, but maybe they want to give him a sense of false security first. Maybe they will come up with some other lie to try and make him compliant, make him believe he is safe here... But he knows better of course. 

He is willing to play along though. As long as they think he believes them, they will leave him alone. After all they would prove themselves wrong in their attempt to get him to trust them, if they hurt him in any way. It's to his advantage. All he lacks is strength, but he can regain that. It's going to be his main focus now. He is used to pain and hardship. He won't need a lot to manage an escape. Just a bit more strength... and a way to the staircase that leads up to the roof. From there all he has to do is climb down the fire escape and then... He has no idea what will happen then. Quite frankly he doesn't care. All that matters is that he will be free – once and for all. 

*#*

Carlos has decided to pick Maribel up from her apartment. He has accompanied her there yesterday evening, making sure the younger woman actually goes home and sleeps and now he will make sure  
she will come and see her brother and give talking to him a second chance. He knows if he doesn't come to pick her up, she will not go back to the clinic. Because despite his own words, he knows Mari well enough to be aware of the fact that sleeping on last nights' events will not make her change her mind. She has been devastated by her brother's reaction and she doesn't want to go through that again.

Carlos understands the sentiment but he knows both siblings long enough to be aware of the fact, that they are both way too stubborn to ever give up easily. Now is definitely not the time to start. But he will not force her into anything, he won't manage to do that anyway. Maribel is too headstrong and independent for that. What he can do however is to get that full picture he has been lacking last night. He can go and talk to Rafa. Because unlike the doctor and unlike Maribel, he has the right status. Just like with Stefanos, Rafa will not be afraid of him. He might not talk to him... but at least he will tolerate Carlos in the room... and that is a start. 

When he comes to pick up Maribel, the younger woman is awake, but she isn't dressed yet and she looks pale and sleep deprived when she opens the door on him. Above all else she is anything but pleased to see him. She is reluctant to let him in, but finally decency wins over her negative feelings and she opens the door and allows Carlos into her hallway. She does however not allow him any further, stepping into his path as soon as the door closes behind them, effectively blocking his way. She gives him the once over, looking him up and down, before she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I've come to take you to the clinic.”

“I don't want to go to the clinic. I told you that yesterday already.”

Mari sounds a lot like a petulant child – something Carlos hasn't heard from her in a long time – but he can find no amusement in her childish reaction. All he does feel for her is impatience and just a bit of disappointment. He knows he has hoped for too much, believing that a good night's sleep – and judging from the way Mari looks it hasn't exactly been a restful night for her – would change the younger woman's mind. But Carlos isn't done convincing her just yet. He has a couple more tricks up his sleeves... the main one being family responsibility.

“Are you truly willing to give up on your brother?”

“He's not my brother. Not any more. That's the point.”

“And how will he ever remember if you're not there to remind him?”

Mari stares at him in response and the emotions flashing across her face are all too clearly readable. At first she is angry with him for being so blunt to her, but that emotion doesn't last for long. Doubt settles in next and finally guilt – guilt because she knows Carlos is right. She is probably the only person around who can make her brother remember who he truly is. She... and Roger... The Swiss however is the very last person Maribel wants anywhere near her brother. Her brother... He might not remember, he might not acted like him, but Carlos is not wrong. He will never remember without their help... In the end the emotion on her face is one of determination... and fondness. She smiles at Carlos – a soft, sardonic smile. 

“I hate when you're right, you know that? Alright then. Let's go see my brother.”

It is quiet in ICU when they reach the clinic, just like it has been the evening before, and Mari and Carlos have a look into Rafa's room before either of them decide to go inside. He is awake, but the breakfast a nurse has brought for him is untouched and Mari is pretty sure he isn't aware of their presence yet. An unsettling feeling has grabbed a hold of her, has settled deep within her gut and makes it impossible for her to do anything but look at her brother. She remembers last night with perfect clarity. Her brother had been afraid of her... and then he had snarled at her like a wounded animal... She cannot go through that again... but then again she doesn't have to.

“Will you go talk to him? See if you have more luck than I did? If he trusts you... maybe you can put in a good word for me?”

“I'll try.”

There is a mixture of smells in the room – antiseptics, bleach and the rather stale scent of hospital food. It's not exactly pleasant and Carlos quietly asks himself when Dr. Alvaro plans to have Rafa transferred to a more... private and comfortable room. Right now it doesn't really matter. Right now all that matters is that Carlos gets a first hand impression of how much of the Rafa Nadal he once knew is truly still left within the man rescued from Barcelona. It's his turn to find out if what he has said to Maribel is actually true. If helping Rafa to remember will make him the man again he has once been.

So far Rafa hasn't reacted to Carlos entry into the room. The older man takes that as a good sign. Carlos is neither a beta doctor nor an alpha. He means no threat to Rafa. The younger man is used to beta doctors exploiting him and alphas doing the very same thing but in even worse ways... At least that is what Carlos assumes. He knows nothing for sure. He only knows what Dr. Alvaro has been able to deduce from the wounds and scars Rafa is bearing... Everything else the younger man will have to tell them himself. But not today. Today is all about rapport. Carlos steps closer to the bed and plasters a smile on his face. He wishes he would actually feel like smiling... 

“Good morning. We... we haven't met yet. My name is Carlos. I... work here.”

Rafa finally turns his head and raises his eyes at Carlos, but only looks at him. It's a start, but not exactly a good one, as Carlos realizes rather quickly. There is suspicion in Rafa's eyes and little else. The older man decides against telling Rafa who he is and how they know one another. It's no wonder he has reacted so harshly to Maribel before. From the look on his face he doesn't remember either of them... Maribel has been right in that regard. Her brother detects no relation, no friendship... only the threat of yet another alpha in her. Hopefully Carlos will have more of a chance to gain Rafa's trust. After all, they are alike. 

“I'm omega, just like the younger man who was here with you two days ago. We're here to help...”

Carlos is very well aware he is pointing out the obvious as well as making a rather lame attempt at getting Rafa to trust him. If there is one thing Rafa is definitely aware of it is Carlos's status. Otherwise he would have reacted in a completely different way. Carlos decides it's a good thing Rafa is listening and – even though it might be way too soon for that – he decides to do what Mari has asked of him. It's not only for her he does this though, it is mainly to make Rafa understand that not every alpha means a threat and that around here, things will be different for him. 

“You were... kind of agitated last night after the visit you received. The alpha woman, she meant what she told you. I know this is hard to understand and I know you were... afraid of her presence in your room. I know other alpha's in your life have done... awful things to you. And I'm aware how lame and stupid this sounds, but this woman is different... A lot of things are different here. All we want for you is to get better. Okay?”

It still sounds god awfully lame and Carlos hates the fact that up to this point Rafa hasn't said a single word in response to anything he has to tell him. He simply looks and blinks in very irregular intervals. After he is done telling the younger man about Maribel and himself and this very place, Rafa keeps on looking at him and then he turns his head away, obviously no longer interested in the conversation. Carlos hides back a sigh.

“Okay...”

Maribel is waiting for him outside with arms crossed in front of her chest, when Carlos leaves Rafa's hospital room again. The expression on her face is somewhere between troubled and agitated. Carlos is sure she has watched, but there really hasn't been much to see and he knows for a fact that conversations don't carry through the viewing window. So all she knows is that Carlos has been talking and Rafa has been listening. Now she wants details on the topic of their conversation and she is impatient to say the least. 

“So?”

“I think your brother is still in there somewhere... But until we find a way to get him to remember who he has once been... I think it's better he keeps to his own kind. With me and Stef, he isn't afraid.”

“He doesn't talk to you. Either of you!”

Carlos sighs ever so softly before he nods his head yes. Of course Mari is aware her brother has yet to say so much as a word to anybody. He hasn't said a single coherent sentence since they have found him. There have been sounds of discomfort, of fear and of anger but no words. Still Carlos feels a lot more positive than Mari does in that regard. Maybe Rafa doesn't talk to him or to Stefanos for that matter, but he doesn't fear them either. They do have grounds to start from... and that is more than they could have hoped for given how... traumatized Rafa is. 

“But he tolerates us around him. It's a start. Just give him time.”

“Patience has never really been my strong suit.”

“I know. Hopefully you won't be put to the test for too long...”

*#*

It's the evening of the same day when Roger returns from Lyon and his very first stop – even before going home or by the office – is at the clinic. A nurse lets him into ICU and of course she knows why he is here. She looks... troubled, though Roger isn't quite sure and tells him to wait for Dr. Alvaro, which makes little to no sense to him either. He nods, but he doesn't really listen and he doesn't wait. Instead he walks down the corridor and he is greeted with a sight he has not expected. Rafa is awake and in a semi upright position when Roger looks into the room. Instinct tells him to go inside, to get into the room, step up to the bed and hug the younger man until his arms grow tired and tell him how much he loves him and how much he has missed him until his voice grows hoarse. But before he can do any of that, a voice behind him stops Roger from acting on his wishes and desires. 

“Reconsider what you are about to do, Roger. Please.”

It is Dr. Alvaro, who has addressed him and when Roger turns around to face him, there is an almost frantic expression on the doctor's face. Roger understands, from one second to the next, that Dr. Alvaro has wanted to intercept him, before Roger ever takes a look at Rafa's room. He has wanted to stop him from finding out the truth... The medical professional hasn't told him the whole truth before and now he wants to protect himself, wants to protect his integrity. Roger however doesn't let him – not that easily.

“He's awake...”

“Yes.”

“You lied to me!”  
  
Dr. Alvaro frowns at him and his facial expression hardens. Maybe his approach isn't the best and Roger is very well aware of the fact that he is allowing his feelings to reign his actions. But he neither feels sorry nor guilty because of it. Because he is right and no matter how appalled Dr. Alvaro is by his words, that doesn't change the facts. The doctor has not told him about Rafa waking up. He has lied. But of course Dr. Alvaro has a different perspective.

“I did not lie. I kept certain medical facts and decisions made from you. Information you weren’t privy to in the first place. You’re not family, Roger. This is Maribel’s decision and me talking to you about her brother is courtesy. So don’t go around blaming me. I’m already turning a blind eye to the rules in this case. I shouldn’t even be talking to you, let alone allow you into ICU.”  
  
“I’m sorry… How… how is he?”  
  
Roger back paddles almost immediately because Dr. Alvaro has a point. Were this any other clinic, he would never even have gotten through the doors of ICU... But the doctor stays silent in the wake of Roger's anxious question and an almost unforgiving expression has appeared on his face all of a sudden. The way Dr. Alvaro looks at him, Roger is pretty sure he will not get an answer. He tries to convince the doctor of his sincerity, but as it turns out Alvaro's reaction is not about punishment, it's about the simply yet scary fact that he is at a loss as to how to explain the situation to Roger.   
  
“Doctor, please… Please just tell me. I’m sorry I reacted so harshly…”  
  
“This is not about you or your apology. Talking about his condition… it’s difficult.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I am not a therapist and his main health problems at the moment are not physical ones, but mental ones. I can’t help with that…”  
  
Dr. Alvaro sounds deeply troubled and Roger does understand where he is coming from. The doctor is a physician, a surgeon but psychology is not his forte. Of course they all know Rafa will need a good therapist in order to work through and cope with the ordeal he has been through. But Roger has no idea what that means. Not really. He knows little to nothing about what Rafa has been through – as do they all. Still Roger tries to make sense of what little the doctor can actually tell him up to this point. 

“He… he’s… traumatized?”  
  
“It goes beyond that, at least to my understanding.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you cannot see him.”

Sudden determination sounds in Dr. Alvaro's voice and Roger feels very much betrayed. He has expected a useful answer, not more harsh words from the doctor. He has apologized for his own initially rather emotional reaction but it seems the physician is vindictive. As it turns out this has nothing to do with their previous argument. Dr. Alvaro is holding himself to the oath he has once made as a physician – to do no harm. 

“I thought you did NOT want to punish me for my harsh reaction?!”

“This is not about punishment. It's about protection. For you... and my patient.”

It's on the tip of Roger's tongue to tell the beta doctor he doesn't want or need his protection. But those words pretty much die in his throat when Dr. Alvaro extends the need for protection to Rafa as well. There is no arguing there. The younger man is in dire need of protection. Still Roger doesn't like the idea of leaving Rafa ll to himself. Not just for his own sake but mostly for the Spaniard's sake. After all Rafa is alive and dealing with all the weight of a horrible past. He shouldn't be alone through all that... and the Swiss cannot – for the life of him – believe Dr. Alvaro would let that come to pass. 

“So he's awake but he's all alone?”

“No. He tolerates other omegas close to him. Only omegas...”

“Carlos and Stefanos? They have been to see him?”

“See him, yes. But not talk to him. He doesn't even look at any of us, Roger. But he tolerates them in the room. Unlike me or Maribel... or you.”

Roger still has a hard time dealing with the envy that is threatening to grab a hold of him. He isn't even allowed to be in the same room with Rafa, because he is alpha. But Carlos and Stef have talked to the younger man... even though he hasn't talked back to them. Still Roger feels it's unfair. Stefanos doesn't even know Rafa... He has no feelings for the Spaniard. And here Roger stands, unable and not allowed to even so much as step into the same space as Rafa. He wants a different outcome... but it's impossible – at least as of yet. 

“But...”

“He needs time, Roger. He has gone through a decade of abuse. You don't just bounce back from that. Just give him time.”


	19. Rafa & Stefanos

They have done it again. They have sent yet another omega to assure him he is safe in this place, yet another one who tells him this place is different and all they want is to help him and for him to get better. It's the same story all over again and somehow they seem to believe repetition is going to make him believe. If at all, it makes him even more suspicious of their motives... and it cements his wish and determination to leave this place... as soon as humanly possible.  
  
Midday brings him closer to his goal and the people on staff here aren't even aware of it. They have sent him an omega nurse and of course they do so on purpose. It seems they think he isn't aware of it, but just because he doesn't talk to them doesn't mean he has suddenly lost the ability to think. He knows all too well what they want – they want him to trust them. Trust however has to be earnt and so far these people have done little to nothing to achieve that goal. The omega nurse – who is gentle and soft spoken and explains every last step of her actions carefully and in detail to him – exchanges the central IV line for one in the crook of his right arm. One he has access to. One he can get rid of.  
  
He is very well aware that what he plans to do will be a painful procedure. But he is used to pain. He can deal with it. What he is not so sure about, is the question whether or not he will actually be able to get out of bed. He can’t even remember the last time he has been standing on his own two feet. But walking is the only way to the door, the only way out into the corridor and the only way out of this building and away from all these liars and impostors.   
  
Right now he needs to be patient. He needs to wait for nightfall, needs to get through one more day in this strange and unwelcoming place. Night shift changes around ten pm and he can see the clock from his angle on the bed. He also has a rather good view of the nurses’ lounge and even though he has only been awake and alert enough of his surroundings to observe much of anything for a couple of days now, he knows the nurses like to stay in that room during shift change and it usually takes about half an hour around their shifts changing over for anyone to reappear. That should be all the time he needs…  
  
There is a feeling, that has settled deep inside his chest, he can’t quite place. It’s excitement, but he doesn’t recognize it. It’s been too long since he felt an emotion that pure and actually nice and not tainted by fear and pain and hopelessness. Escaping his captors is not a new idea. He has done this before, but it has been a very long time since he has tried... and failed. But nothing can keep him this time. The darkness has come for him, has claimed him, and for all intents and purposes he shouldn’t be here anymore anyway. He is a ghost… and maybe that is the advantage he needs. Nobody will ever come looking for a ghost – especially if he’s omega.   
  
*#*  
  
Stefanos has been to see Louis - who is the counselor for the response team and who handles the therapies for the omegas at the safe house, if they chose to accept the offer – and he still isn’t sure he is doing the right thing. His main reason and motive has been guilt. It has been three days since he has practically fled from Sascha’s apartment and has completely ignored the younger man’s attempts to contact him. And while Sascha still calls from time to time, he has never shown up at the office or at Stefanos own apartment. He doesn’t leave his temporary home and Stefanos is worried.   
  
He has asked Louis for help, has asked him to intervene and go talk to Sascha. This approach is highly unusual and the counselor has told Stefanos as much. But he has not declined the proposal and that is more than Stefanos has hoped for. The Frenchman has agreed to give talking to Sascha about his experience a chance, even though he has been very clear on the fact, that he doubts – after everything Stefanos has told him - Sascha will open up to a stranger. Still this is better than nothing. Louis can help, if Sascha lets him, and Stefanos will have some peace of mind, knowing the German is taken care of.  
  
He has talked to Louis – talking about his own experience with the mildly traumatized German at length without ever mentioning the kiss or him running away – for over an hour and it is late when he leaves. Louis has his office at the clinic though and as it is almost time for the shift change, Stefanos decides to drop by ICU. He expects Mari to be there at this rather late hour of the day. After her initial, nonstop vigil at her brother’s side, she drops by only two or three times a day now, usually when Dr. Alvaro is there to make his rounds as well.   
  
He is aware of the complication that has arisen in the wake of her brother's return to consciousness and he is also aware how hard this is for Mari. Still he feels she handles the situation admirably. They have talked about it only a little – Stefanos too busy hiding from Sascha and Mari burying herself in her work at the safe house in order not to have to think about the complicated day to day life that is the situation with her brother... Still Stefanos hopes for a chance for a more in depths conversation sometime soon.

When Stefanos arrives at ICU – and is welcomed by a nurse letting him into the ward and wearing a grim expression on her face while doing so – Maribel isn't there, has left a little over half an hour ago as the nurse lets him know. Stefanos could leave now – as he has come here more for the older woman than for her brother – but before he can ever make any kind of decision, he is witness to a heated discussion going on at the far end of the corridor right by Rafa's room. It is Dr. Alvaro and Carlos and what is even more odd than the fact that these two are arguing right in the middle of ICU, is that the door to Rafa's hospital room is wide open... Something is wrong here...

The Greek knows he doesn't have to get involved if he doesn't chose to do so. Rafa is not his friend, not his family and he is no medical professional qualified to help with whatever the problem is. As of yet, he is too far away to know what the two older man are talking about. Instinct tells him to step closer and when he passes the viewing window to Rafa's room on the way to Carlos and Dr. Alvaro, he quickly realizes what the problem is, before he ever hear Carlos practically barking at the physician. Rafa's room is empty.   
  
„Where the fuck is he?“  
  
„I don't know... He wasn't supposed to leave this bed. Hell, he shouldn't even be capable of getting up. We have to find him! Any additional strain might rip the stitches and then we have to start from scratch all over again.“  
  
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Alvaro. I have no idea how this could have happened…”  
  
The nurse – who has let Stefanos in and who had been wearing that sour expression on her face, seemingly appears out of nowhere right beside Stefanos, making him wince ever so slightly. She looks contrite now but neither Dr. Alvaro nor Carlos seem to care much for her apology. They have yet to acknowledge Stefanos' presence as well, but it seems they are too focused on the problem at hand... and Carlos – especially – is too angry and worried for a polite conversation. It is probably why he snaps at the nurse so harshly as well. 

“Your guilt and apologies are not helping. We need to take action. We have to find him!”

“Of course we do, but we can't all go looking. If a beta – or even worse, an alpha – finds him, there is no telling how he will react... He could hurt whoever finds him, could hurt himself and he could undo all my hard work in the process... We need to be careful.”  
  
“Above all else we need to be quick!”  
  
“Yes. That too.”

Finally – now that it seems the conversation has come to a close and a decision has been reached – Stefanos decides to interject. He can only assume what has happened, but it is clear to see that Rafa is not where he is supposed to be. He should be in his room, in his bed, on medication and closely monitored. Instead he is... god knows where. A sinking feeling settles in the pit of the young Greek's stomach as he tries to find out more of the truth. Unfortunately Carlos – who is the one answering him – still is in too much of an emotional turmoil to be polite or patient with his answers. 

“What happened? What is going on here?”

“Isn't it obvious. Our patient went awol.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Damned if I know. All I can tell you is that he isn't here and that arguing about how it happened and who is responsible is not helping. We need to look for him. Right now.”

Stefanos watches as Dr. Alvaro nods in tandem with Carlos statement and his impatient fidgeting. He is very well aware of the urgency of the situation. Rafa is a lot of things – weak, traumatized, distrusting – but ready to get out of his hospital bed and off his meds to wander around a place he does not know, is not one of them. Mari's words echo in the Greek's mind all of a sudden. The older woman has asked him to take care of her brother and make sure he was okay whenever she wasn't there. Of course that had pertained to the days she hadn't been in Paris, but had met with her family, but if ever there has been a moment Rafa has needed somebody to care for him – it is right now. To Stefanos, there is no doubt or question as to what he has to do. 

“Can I help?”

“Of course! We each take a floor, Carlos goes down, you go up. Call either of us if you find him.”

It is Dr. Alvaro who takes initiative now and bestows each of them with a task and a location at which to look for Rafa. Stefanos isn't quite sure how he feels about going for the search all on his own. After all he doesn't know Rafa and Rafa doesn't know him. HE has tried to talk to the older man before, but that hasn't really worked and Stefanos isn't sure Rafa will actually remember and recognize him... But he has offered his help and he will not back out now. 

He does as Dr. Alvaro has asked of him and takes the stairs through the emergency back door at the far end of the corridor. The door is ajar and that alarms Stefanos immediately. It shouldn't be open. After all it's an emergency door and access to ICU should be limited. But it also sends a surge of excitement through him. Because there is only one person, who could have used this way without caring about the fact that he leaves access to the ward wide open. This has to be the way Rafa has taken...

Stefanos quickly debates calling Dr. Alvaro and letting him in on what he assumes. But he doesn't do it. He's not supposed to. He's supposed to call when he has found Rafa. The Greek climbs the stairs, taking two steps with each stride and is a little out of breath when he reaches the steel door leading to the flat roof of the clinic building. This door is ajar just the same and this time Stefanos is nervous instead of excited, when he pushes the heavy door open.  
It's dark outside and Stefanos needs a moment to adjust to the sudden lack of light. When he does, he quickly realizes that his initial assumptions have been true and that he is the one to have found who the whole team of ICU is looking for. Rafa is on that roof. The older man is in his hospital issued nightgown, a robe and a pair of slippers. He has no own clothes, has nothing brought back from Barcelona that would have been usable. This – however – is not a set of clothes that the older man should wear out here in the rather cold breeze of this late evening. He could catch a cold this way... or worse.

Because he looks worse and even in the dim light Stefanos can tell. Rafa's almost ashen complexion that had befallen him while still in his drug induced sleep has returned to his features and there is a soft trembling to his hands and forearms, that speaks of how dearly he is holding on to the support he has found at the far end of the roof. He's at the very end of his rope and it doesn't need a medical professional to tell he won't be able to hold on for much longer. 

Stefanos could call Carlos and the doctor now. But he doesn't want to scare or alarm Rafa. Judging from the way he is leaning heavily against the small stonewall that is separating him from a steep fall to the street below, he is barely able to hold himself upright anymore. This way up the stairs has probably required all the strength the Spaniard has had at his disposal. Stefanos decides to go for a different approach. Rafa doesn't need more people crowding him. He needs somebody he can trust... somebody who can talk him down and convince him get down from the roof and back to his room. Stefanos has no idea if he is the right person to try. But he is the only one here... 

“Hey...”

The older man flinches almost immediately before Stefanos' attempt to talk to Rafa has even fully left his lips. He turns towards the unexpected voice in an erratic and uncoordinated way, almost losing his balance in the process. Stefanos' heart sinks. It's all too clear to see, that Rafa is on the brink of losing both his strength... and his consciousness. Stefanos knows he has to act fast and yet he needs to be careful. His first instinct tells him to move closer, but he stops himself. Rafa is wary enough of his presence already. Getting closer will only make him even more suspicious and afraid. Stefanos needs to find another way.

“Do... do you remember me? We talked before? In you room? I... I told you you were safe here, remember? Why... why don't you come back inside, mh?”

Stefanos isn't sure if Rafa hears him, but if he does, he doesn't let it show. The other man is looking at him – which has Stefanos assume that Rafa is indeed listening to him – but he does not react to what Stefanos tells him. It seems, he is entirely lost in his own thoughts and he tries to make sense of the situation he is in. Stefanos doesn't expect a verbal reaction... but it happens anyway. It's the first time he actually hears Rafa utter any kind of sound that is not just a guttural snarl or whimpered moan. And Stefanos is more than just a little surprised to realize they have found a common ground. Because the older Spaniard answers him in – albeit rather heavily accented – English.

“This... is different... It's all wrong... There is no escape... There is supposed to be an escape...”  
  
“Easy... Just take it easy. You're safe here, you don't need an escape. Nobody is going to hurt you...”  
  
Rafa's words make no sense to Stefanos, but they don't have to. He doesn't need to understand them, all he has to do is react to them.. and talk the older man down from his agitated and slightly desperate state. Rafa has managed to almost lose his balance as he turns his head left and right, looking for that escape he has expected to be here. Stefanos can only assume Rafa believes he is still in Spain. After all nobody has told him otherwise. All they have told him over and over again, is that he is safe where he is. Stefanos has done nothing to remedy that up until now either and it seems – even though he barely has been listening – Rafa, though he certainly doesn't trust him, relies on the younger Greek for information. 

“Where am I?”  
  
“At a private... hospital in Paris.”  
  
“Paris... I was... somewhere else before.”

“Yes, yes you were. But we found you. We saved you and brought you back here. We treated your injuries, helped you get better. We're the good guys!”  
  
Stefanos feels almost excited at the prospect of the somewhat... normal conversation they have managed to establish. Though he is still being extremely careful in the choice of his words. He doesn't want to use the word 'clinic' because that is exactly where Rafa has been held before while still in Barcelona and comparing this place with the location of his captivity is certainly not a good idea... He wants Rafa to trust him, wants the older man to believe him. But all Rafa does in response is stare at him. The concept of good people seems entirely foreign to him. He doesn't comment or question it, but he does seem to put just a little but of faith in Stefanos. At least enough to seek his help and assistance when it comes to further information the Spaniard is looking for.   
  
“Where are the others?”

“The other omegas, you mean? There... there weren't any. I'm sorry...”  
  
Stefanos is lying and he knows he shouldn't. Lying to Rafa is not a good idea, especially because he will have to learn the truth eventually. He deserves as much. Right now however he does not need to know that the rest of whoever was held with him is either dead or still in captivity. Stefanos' vague answer however is not what Rafa is looking for and it is not enough to quell his need for knowledge and certainty. Stefanos watches rather helplessly as Rafa's hand holding onto the brick wall behind him clenches. There is the tremble of emotion in his voice now, desperation shining through all too clearly. 

“Fifteen... We were fifteen...”  
  
“You're the only one we found...”  
  
Even now Stefanos is lying. But that is a lie he can live with because it's a version of the truth. After all Rafa is the only omega the response team has found alive. Stefanos watches as Rafa leans heavily against the wall he has been holding onto. The Greek isn't sure whether it's physical weakness or a sign of utter defeat. Either way it is time for them to get back inside and for Rafa to get back into his hospital bed and back on painkillers. Rafa however has other ideas, other plans. 

“Will you let me go?”  
  
“I can't. Not right away anyway. I mean look at you – you're barely able to stand... You're not well yet. But the people here – they will help you get better. And once you're fine you can leave. You can go wherever you want to.”  
  
“This is a trick...”

Whatever rapport they had been able to establish, it crumbles into dust the second Stefanos denies Rafa the chance for the one thing he is truly interested in, the one thing that has him up here on the roof in the first place. All he wants is to leave this place. But there is no mind over matter here. Rafa cannot leave, no matter how desperately he wants to. He needs to be well first... Stefanos makes another attempt to get Rafa to believe him, hoping that the fact that they have something in common will reach deeper than any of his previous attempts and words have been able to.   
  
“No! No tricks. It's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you. I'm like you...”  
  
“Your omega...”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“You're nothing like me.”

There is a coldness and finality to Rafa's words that stops Stefanos from trying to convince the Spaniard otherwise He is not wrong after all. Rafa and Stefanos are nothing alike. They might both be omegas and they have certainly both suffered because of their status. But that is where the similarities end. Stefanos might have experienced being discriminated, might have been confronted with harsh words and limitations when it comes to being who he wants to be. But Rafa... Rafa has spent more than a decade of his life in captivity – hurt and exploited time and again. Nothing in Stefanos own life can measure up to that... and he is glad for that fact. 

It doesn't change their immediate situation though. Stefanos may never be able to understand what Rafa has gone through and how he feels right now. But he doesn't have to. All he has to do is to convince the older man to come back into the clinic and back to ICU with him. It's about time. Rafa as lost what little color has been left to his complexion and by his drawn features and the tremble to his muscles, it is easy to tell he is both in pain.. and barely still holding on.   
  
“Please just come back inside. It's cold out here, you're weak and you're probably about to pass out. Please just let me help you.”  
  
“No escape... You found me and you trapped me...”  
  
“I didn't mean to...”

It's hard not to be impatient. They have been having this same argument ever since Stefanos has found the Spaniard up here. It is time for this to end. After all that is what the young Greek has been charged with – finding Rafa and bringing him back to his room. But the older man is lost in his thoughts again and Stefanos has a hard time making sense of whatever is going through Rafa's mind. He gets why the older man feels trapped, he does not get why he seems to blame Stefanos though... or why he suddenly looks so forlorn and afraid again. The latter part however is explained easily enough when Rafa asks him a tentative, almost timid question.   
  
“Will you punish me now?”  
  
“What?! No! Of course not!”  
  
Stefanos is appalled and taken aback by even the thought of punishing the Spaniard. He would never do such a thing... to anyone. But to Rafa this has to be the logical conclusion of his attempt to flee from the people he still sees as captors, no matter how many times they have told him that he has nothing to fear from them. Even now, that Stefanos tells him otherwise so vehemently, Rafa doesn't look like he believes him one bit. Stefanos decides not to waste another breath on making the Spaniard believe in something he doesn't want to believe in anyway. Words can only do so much. What is needed right now... are actions. And in that regard Stefanos is not at the end of his rope yet.   
  
“I'm Stefanos. You can call me Stef if you like. My friends do...”  
  
“I'm not your friend.”  
  
“No. But you can be, if you want to. You had friends, right? Back at the cli... back where we found you?”

Stefanos isn't really interested in the specifics of Rafa's captivity. He can only assume there are only horrors to be found out there. But he needs to make sure the concept of friends is something Rafa can even make sense of. After a decade with only hurt and pain and fear and nobody to trust in, Stefanos can only assume friendship is not something that will ever come easily to the older man. And he is exactly right. Because of course Rafa's captors have thought of that particular detail as well. And of course there is only sadness there...  
  
“There were others... No friends allowed... Friendship is dangerous... Makes us bond, gives us hope, makes us plot, makes us try to run. No friends...”  
  
“What about your name? I told you mine. What's yours?”  
  
“12.”

Stefanos gasps at the mention of a number instead of a name. Of course he knows the Spaniard's name and he has simply assumed Rafa does know his own name as well of course. It's not like he has been taken at birth or something. He has lived both his childhood and young adult life in a happy and stable environment, with friends and family that love him and a satisfying day to day life... Somewhere – deep inside – the memory of that still has to be there, has to linger. But from the way the older man sounds, not even a shred of those memories are still there... and Stefanos has a very hard time coming to terms with that.   
  
“I don't...”  
  
“We were 15. I was 12. 13 wasn't used. 13 is unlucky. 16 was dead. He was too old. He was not useful anymore... 15 and 8 were sick... They left me with them. They died... 15 first, 8 later. They both died... Left me alone... All alone... Haven't been alone in forever... The silence was nice. But then the smell came and then the dreams... and in the end the darkness came... Where did it go?”

Explaining how things have been for him – especially in those last weeks after his captors had decided to abandon the clinic - Rafa sounds... lost. Like a child trying to understand a vicious nightmare. In the end that is exactly what this is. Rafa's whole life since he has been kidnapped is a nightmare... one that has buried any memory of his previous life all too deeply. But in regard to Rafa's question, Stefanos has an answer... sort of. It's simplified, maybe too much so, but it's not wrong. It is the easiest way to put in words what has happened.  
  
“We... we saved you from the darkness.”


	20. Rafa & Stefanos

Rafa is silent for a long time after Stefanos answers him and the Greek isn't quite sure if he believes him. It seems Rafa is contemplating his choices, his chances. He still doesn't trust any of them, but he knows Stefanos is right as well. His plan of escape has failed but at least nobody has hurt him for that yet and if Stefanos is right, nobody will. There are no guarantees though. But his strength – what little of it he had from the beginning – is waning and the younger man is right after all. He cannot stay here. He risks further illness and injury that way.  
  
Rafa nods – a small, slow, very much defeated gesture – and then he takes a step forward... and almost falls. His own legs don't support his weight and the sudden shift causes a sharp sting of pain to rip through his abdomen. He gasps and for a second everything turns a dark gray right in front of him. But he never falls, never hits the ground. Instead there is a sudden, very hard grip on his upper arm and his fall is halted. But the sudden halt in his descent strains his muscles and it hurts – quite a lot. Obviously the pain killers that had still been coursing through his systems are fading rather quickly...  
  
He needs a moment to get his bearings again and to clear the dark fog from his head. When he does, at first there is only pain – localized in his abdomen – and a feeling of wet warmth. Probably blood, probably from his still healing wounds. But that is not the worst thing. The worst thing is the fact that he realizes the grip on his arm is from another person. The younger man – Stefanos – is the one holding him upright and he is way, way too close... Rafa tries in vain to pull free. He simply lacks the strength. But he can make his wishes known... and he practically snarls at the younger man.  
  
“Don't touch!”  
  
“Would if I could. But you can barely even stand on your own... And the last thing I want is to risk you falling down a flight of stairs.”  
  
Stefanos has flinched but he has not let go of Rafa. He has however hurried to explain his reasoning and even though Rafa really doesn't like it, he understands the necessity for the support. Stefanos tries his best to hold onto Rafa without crowding him or getting to close. He wants to help, not make the older man feel even worse than he already does. Their way off the roof and back into the building is slow going at best. Rafa is weak of course – weak and tired and still very much injured. But they manage and luckily they don't have to take the stairs on their way down. There is a service elevator Rafa has avoided on his way up for whatever reason but they do take it now on the way back down to ICU.

Their whole... procession happens in silence until the moment they reenter Rafa's hospital room. Stefanos – who is still holding onto Rafa's arm lightly to help support him – can feel the older man's muscles strain and tense as they step into the room. The Spaniard doesn't like to be here... But he has no choice, Stefanos has already explained as much to him, and it seems the older man is willing to accept his fate, even if it is simply out of necessity. Sefanos helps Rafa back to and into the hospital bed. It is only now, that the older man settles and lets himself sink back into his pillows, that Stefanos becomes aware of a fact Rafa has been able to hide from him until now.   
  
“You're bleeding...”  
  
“It's not so bad. I've had worse.”  
  
Stefanos believes that without so much as another shred of proof. He hasn't been here from the beginning to see any of Rafa's injuries first hand, but the doctor and staff as well as Maribel have told him about it of course. Stefanos is aware how desperately sick Rafa has been when he first came here. Of course he has had worse. That however doesn't mean this new loss of bodily fluids is something to be taken lightly. It's a bad thing and it should not be left unattended. Stefanos certainly isn't the best person to do that... but he is the only one around at the moment.  
  
“Can I… take a look?”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“To make sure it’s not that serious.”  
  
Stefanos is very well aware of how ridiculous his proposal sounds. He couldn't make sure the wound that has caused the bleeding isn't serious if his life depended on it. After all he has only a very basic knowledge of first aid that doesn't go beyond what has been taught to him in the wake of getting his driver's license... And that has been quite a while ago already. But he can't very well leave Rafa there – bleeding and injured -without at least taking a look at the wound. The older man is frowning at him in response, the very same thoughts obviously going through Rafa's mind as well.   
  
“Are you a doctor?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“A nurse?”  
  
“No…”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Agreement is not the reaction Stefanos has expected after the rather probing questions into his medical expertise. He has fully expected Rafa to tell him off, maybe even to insult or tease him because he wants to check out something he has no knowledge about whatsoever. At first Rafa's reaction makes no sense to Stefanos. But the longer he thinks about it, the more – albeit awful and saddening – sense the whole thing makes. 

Rafa doesn't trust doctors or nurses. He doesn't trust any of the medical staff for that matter. But Stefanos isn't part of the medical staff. He is – however – a fellow omega. And even though Rafa clearly stated he and the other omegas back at the clinic in Barcelona were not allowed to befriend one another, Stefanos assumes bonds had formed none the less. That is the very simple reason why Rafa would trust a fellow omega with his injuries way more than he would any nurse or doctor.

He does exactly that now, shifts into a different position in bed and lifts up the hospital gown he is still wearing. Somewhere in the back of his mind Stefanos finds himself thinking how undignified those pieces of clothing are. Rafa doesn't seem to mind. Then again his dignity probably hasn't been an issue for his captors those last 11 years. Stefanos swallows hard, pushes the thought away and tries to concentrate on the here and now. He takes a look at where the blood has come from  
  
It seems what little blood there is detectable on Rafa's shirt is all that has come from the injury that the older man has been dealing with for a while now. It's the surgical wound on his lower abdomen, the infection gone now, and to on side of it, one of the black stitches has popped and that is where blood has already coagulated. It's not a pretty sight, but given how the injury must have looked when Rafa first came here, it's worlds better. Stefanos looks up at the older man – who pushes the gown back down – and shrugs softly. 

“Looks like you managed to rip one of your stitches. I should probably get Dr. Alvaro to fix this…”  
  
The expression that flashes across the older man’s face for just a second is one of sheer horror. It vanishes as quickly as it has appeared and obviously the Spaniard believes Stefanos is unaware. But he has seen the way Rafa has reacted at the mention of the physician and even though he understands where the sentiment is coming from, Stefanos can't help a certain amount of impatience. Rafa has been treated and has gradually gotten better since he has come here. That has to count for something. But obviously the Spaniard doesn't see it that way.   
  
“Dr. Alvaro means you no harm… and this needs to be treated.”  
  
“It’ll heal on it’s own.”  
  
“It didn’t before.”  
  
Instead of a verbal response, a low growl escapes the other man’s lips and Stefanos involuntarily takes a small step back. Rafa reacts like a wild animal backed into a corner with nowhere to go…   
That is probably exactly how he feels – being here without an escape and forced to stay because his own body, his own lack of strength, betrays him out of a chance to leave. Stefanos doesn't like it, bu he understand. He tries one last time - being gentle and soothing in the process - but it does not have the desired effect and Stefanos decides to simply leave matters be for the moment.  
  
“Please?”  
  
“No doctors, no nurses.”  
  
„Alright, fine. Something else then? Maybe... are you hungry? I could get you some food... Something mild for starters perhaps?“  
  
Stefanos is pretty sure this idea is a good one. As far as he knows Rafa is off the IV nutritions and on 'real' food for only a couple of days now and this trip up the stairs and to the roof must have exhausted him. He can definitely use some sustenance. But Rafa shakes his head no though. His own body however betrays him yet again, as his stomach growls right into the silence that follows his denial of Stefanos' proposal. The Greek can't help but grin and Rafa actually gives up on his relentless denial rather easily.

“Are you sure?”

Maybe...”

Stefanos nods and smiles, happy to have something useful to do that he can actually help Rafa with and secretly planning to use the chance to be out of the room and out of earshot, to let Carlos and Dr. Alvaro know he has been successful in his search for the older man. The younger Greek turns to leave and get on the task at hand, but he stops in the doorway, when a thought suddenly occurs to him, a question that has been nagging at the back of his mind ever since Rafa has asked him to let him go. He turns back around, facing the older man and surprisingly enough he gets an open answer.  
  
“If I hadn’t found you, if you had managed to get off that roof, where would you have gone?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“You don’t know where you wanted to go?! You had to have a plan?”  
  
“I wanted to get away.”  
  
Stefanos frowns at that response. It makes no sense to him... and it saddens him at the very same time. Rafa feels that awful, that unwelcome and distrusting and like he is still in a situation where he feels trapped... and afraid. Why else would he be so desperate to get away from all of them? He knows it's wrong, but Stefanos feels... insulted at the realization. It makes his reaction a lot harsher than he has planned for it to be. But Rafa doesn't seem to mind. He's most definitely used to a rougher tone of conversation...   
  
“But you don’t know anyone here… Where would you have gone for help? For shelter? For food or even for guidance?”  
  
“Nobody.”  
  
Stefanos suppresses a sigh at Rafa's rather unhelpful response. This whole conversation is getting them nowhere. The Spaniard doesn't really want to talk to him, doesn't trust him enough to do so and Stefanos lakes the patience to keep on trying to coax him. He has done what is expected of him. He has brought Rafa back here safely. Trust – and maybe even friendship – is a task for another day. Right now Stefanos has more pressing matters at hand to take care of – like letting the two older man know Rafa is back... and getting the older omega something to eat.   
  
“I’m going to get you that food now, okay?”

There is no reaction from Rafa but a curt, barely detectable nod and Stefanos decides to take that as a good sign. He walks up to the nurses' station, hoping the woman there can help him with the issue of sustenance. As it turns out, the nurse on night shift is not the only one there. Carlos and Dr. Alvaro have returned from their search and of course they come back empty handed. All three of them look up when Stefanos approaches and he hurries to let them know, that there is no need to worry about Rafa's whereabouts anymore. He even allows himself a small, triumphant smile but it falls as quickly as it has appeared when Carlos reacts rather harshly.   
  
“I found him…”  
  
“And you’re telling us this now?! We were about to call the damn police!”  
  
“I found him, did I not? Sorry my first instinct wasn't to leave him alone again and come running, looking for you! I’m lucky I managed to convince him to come back down here with me at all anyway!”  
  
Stefanos knows his emotional reaction is not helping, but he feels deeply mistreated. After all he has done as has been asked of him and he has managed to find the right angle to get Rafa to trust him enough to come back to ICU with him. Hadn't he managed, the older man would still be out there on the roof in the cold, bleeding and risking his health. Stefanos feels he deserves at least a hint of gratitude. But just like his triumphant smile, Carlos' anger evaporates rather quickly. He is simply worried about his friend. 

“So he’s okay? You talked to him?”  
  
“Okay is a relative term… From what I can tell he ripped at least one of the stitches and he’s bleeding. But he doesn’t want a doctor…”  
  
“Tough luck.”  
  
It is Dr. Alvaro who bluntly dismisses Rafa's wishes and manages to surprise Stefanos with it. He knows the doctor for a long time and he has never once seen him go against one of his patient's wishes. But then again none of his patients have ever refused treatment before... not that Stefanos knows of at least. Of course – with Rafa – there are special and exceeding circumstances. But the Spaniard is still their patient and they have to respect his wishes and needs. And right now he needs for Dr. Alvaro to stay the hell away from him. 

“Don’t do this, okay? Just be… patient, be lenient. He doesn’t trust us, any of us. He was looking for an escape, that’s why he wasn’t in his room. He wants to leave… Don’t force anything, okay? How can he ever trust us if we are no better than the people who held him captive…”  
  
“He’s hurt!”  
  
“He has been hurt for quite a while, doctor. And this is HIS injury, for which he does not want treatment. He did ask for something to eat though.”

His last words are meant for the nurse, who has been following their conversation in silence up until this point. She nods and smiles ever so softly, obviously happy she has something more productive to do than stand and listen and feel contrite and guilty at the fact that Rafa has disappeared on her watch in the first place. Now she can actually help and she sounds almost... grateful for that chance.

“I'll get right on that.”

The nurse disappears down the corridor and Stefanos – having achieved what Rafa has asked of him to do – feels very tired all of a sudden. First the talk with Louis, then the commotion here at ICU and finally his attempt to – literally – talk Rafa down, all of that has depleted his energy reserves, both physically and mentally, quite thoroughly. But neither the doctor nor Carlos seem to care much. At least they are still not willing to listen to him and Stefanos has to argue his case – or more so Rafa's - all over again.

“I should follow her... See how he is holding up...”

“Dr. Alvaro, please... He doesn’t want you anywhere near him. Why can't you leave him alone?”  
  
“I can’t do that.”  
  
“Of course you can. You simply have to adapt to the circumstances.”  
  
“And what – exactly – are the circumstances?”  
  
“Special ones.”

Dr. Alvaro huffs at that, but at least he is still rooted to the spot and hasn't followed the nurse down the corridor yet. Stefanos takes that as a good sign, takes the win. But unfortunately Dr. Alvaro is not the only one who feels he knows better what is best for Rafa, than the Spaniard does know himself. And unlike Dr. Alvaro – who is willing to listen to Stef and his experience with Rafa this last 40 to 50 minutes – Carlos is less inclined to do so. And he has already made up his mind.   
  
“I go talk to him.”  
  
Stefanos has no chance to stop Carlos – neither with actions nor words – and can simply watch the older man walk down the corridor at a rather crisp pace. It seems Carlos deciding against both Rafa's wishes and Stefanos' advice is the incentive Dr. Alvaro has been waiting for. He follows the other man and Stefanos does the same, even though he holds out little hop to actually change anything about the situation. 

They arrive at Rafa's room just in time to bear witness to an... altercation between the two Mallorcans. The nurse must have been quick, because Rafa is already provided with a bowl of something that is either a creamy soup or some sort of porridge. Rafa is fully concentrated on the sparse and probably less than appealing meal and it's quite disturbing to watch the almost... desperate way in which he wolfs down the offered meal. 

It all gets even worse the second Carlos approaches the younger man without any warning and addresses him. Obviously – distracted by the meal – Rafa has not been aware of the other man's presence. His reaction is instantaneous... and very much violent. The second Rafa becomes aware of the presence of his unwanted visitor, he wraps a protective arm around his bowl of food and snarls at Carlos- it's a low, growling, purely animalistic sound and Carlos is completely taken aback. He retreats - reacting on instinct - and practically stumbles out of the room and back into the corridor seconds later. He is very pale, his voice hoarse and both defeat and disbelieve clearly sounding in it.  
  
“What the hell…”  
  
“I told you to leave him alone…”

Stefanos cannot help the reproachful tone to his reply. Carlos is shaken enough as it is, but the Greek has told him from the start that engaging Rafa would be a bad idea. The Spaniard is still watching them carefully from inside his room, sitting rigid on his bed and still keeping a protective hold on his bowl of food. He looks tense and very much like he is in fight or flight mode. Stefanos would not be surprised if Rafa went for a second attempt to flee the premises sometime soon... and that would be Carlos fault. But he doesn't say that out loud. It's not helping. Instead it is Dr. Alvaro who finds his voice again first, trying to rationalize what has just happened.   
  
„I have rarely ever seen anything like it. I mean we have been dealing with a lot of traumatized omegas over the years. But this – this territorial behavior, the pure instinct to every last of his actions...”  
  
“He said he didn’t have friends amongst the other omegas. That they weren’t allowed to be friendly with one another…”

Stefanos interjects, trying to be helpful and both men look at him, Carlos expression somewhere between hostile and contrite and Dr. Alvaro looking at him with interest. The physician is nodding softly. Obviously Stefanos explanation fits in with what the doctor has already assumed to be part of the reason for Rafa's almost hostile behavior. Carlos however seems less than satisfied with the doctor's reasoning. Of course he isn't. After all he has known Rafa before he has disappeared, he knows the man the Spaniard has once been... and he still sees that person in him, even though those past eleven years have changed him... almost unrecognizably.   
  
“Maybe that explains it. A constant aura of competition, of distrust… It’s the best way to ensure they don’t plot an escape and help one another to achieve that goal…”  
  
“This is more than just a competitive atmosphere. He’s afraid to lose out…”  
  
“We both know his captors didn’t take good care of the omegas they imprisoned. How is any of this a surprise?”  
  
“The severity of it is.”

There is vehemence to Carlos' tone of voice and a lot of anger and frustration. But – of course – it is not directed at Dr. Alvaro. It is testament of the impossible, awful situation his friend has been in for so long. Dr. Alvaro is more detached, has a more... scientific way of looking at the situation. After all Rafa is not the first traumatized omega the physician deals with. Though he is definitely not a standard case... if there ever has been such a thing. Eleven years is a long, long time after all...   
  
“Not really though, don’t you think? I mean he was trapped in a room with two other, injured and dying omegas… It was a fight for survival… No wonder that is still deeply ingrained in him.”  
  
“This is… not what I expected. He is not how I expected him to be. I was pessimistic before, but this… Stef was right, it’s a miracle he managed to talk him into coming back down here. I mean… I’m his friend – or I used to be – and I have no idea how to get through to him.“

The defeated tone in Carlos voice makes Stefanos feel uncomfortable and it prompts Dr. Alvaro to once again do what he has been doing quite a few times ever since Rafa has first been brought to the clinic. He tries to reassure Carlos, tries to make him see that giving up is never an option. His little motivational speech is not only meant for Carlos though – it is meant for Stefanos just the same.   
  
„You have to keep on trying. Right now you and Stef are the only ones he lets even remotely close to him and you are the only ones qualified enough to help. Please don't give up on him...“  



	21. Rafa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone is still interested but here's a new chapter for you.  
> For those who asked - Part 3 has 9 chapters finished... of 35. I'm not sure I'll actually get done with it.  
> Let's hope for the best.
> 
> *#*

*Barcelona – summer 2008*

Unconsciousness has never happened to him before. He has probably been close a couple of times – because he had played matches despite the fact that he was sick or even feverish, because of abhorrent conditions – like the humid heat of an Australian summer – or simply due to a painful injury. But he has never really passed out. Somehow he has expected the wake up process to be like in the movies, a slow return to the world with eyes blinking and a foggy brain.  
  
That is not what happens to him though. It’s more like waking from a deep slumber after a good night’s sleep. His memory is indeed a bit clouded and for a moment he has no idea where he is… And then it all comes back to him in a flash… and panic threatens to simply overwhelm him. He has been home – at the family home in Porto Cristo right by the sea to be exact – and he has been on his own. Or at least that is what he has been sure of. But he has been completely wrong. 

Three intimidatingly tall figures in dark ski masks had appeared in the kitchen right behind him like they had suddenly materialized out of thin air. Neither one of them had said a word, but their intentions had been all too clear. Defiance told him to fight... and instinct told him to flee. It is that moment of conflict that breaks his neck, because while he is still debating the right decision to make, the three men descend on him like a group of vultures on a corpse... Something scratchy, slightly damp but soft gets pressed against his mouth and nose rather forcefully and even though every last fiber of his being tells him not to, he takes a breath. The piece of cloth smells distinctly of alcohol and something else, something less pronounced. The rag is definitely soaked in some sort of liquid, probably some sort of medication... That is the last conscious thought that registers with Rafa and then the world fades.

Waking up now, he is aware of the earlier events all too clearly and he is also very much aware of the fact, that his attackers are also his captors, because he is not at his home any more. Then again he is not stuck in some damp, cold moldy basement with bare walls and no natural light either. So things could definitely be worse for him. The room he is in is small and sparsely furnished but it is a regular room. There is the bed he has woken up in, a cupboard at the far end on the opposite wall, a table and chair and what he assumes is a small adjacent bathroom, though the door to it is closed.

The only other door has to be the one leading in and out of the room and his heart skips a beat at the realization. As he sits up, dizziness threatens to overtake him, but Rafa tries his hardest to fight the feeling down. It's probably from whatever that piece of cloth was drenched in and he is pretty sure it must have been some kind of sedative. No wonder that still effects him. But he knows he can get up and work his way to the door, even if he feels under the weather. Hell, he has played matches like this before... He can manage a walk to a door.

Unfortunately his rather slow and slightly uncoordinated trail across the room is not rewarded with a victory. When he finally reaches the door and tries the handle, he finds it locked. A second – more forceful try – yields no different result and the strength and willpower it takes to do this, drains what little energy he has had right out of Rafa. He turns and leans heavily against the door, breathing heavy and little dots of light flickering right in front of his eyes.

It takes a couple of minutes before the feeling of dizziness and fatigue vanish enough for Rafa to push himself off the door supporting his weight. It is only now that he realizes two things about the room, that have eluded him up until now, because they weren't visible from his earlier vantage point on the bed. First, there are two windows to the room, both of them with a handle that needs a key to be moved and barred with grilles on the outside. Second there is a row of sockets above the bed, some for electricity but also for oxygen and other medical equipment. Rafa feels a painful twist in his stomach. This room may have the feel of a dorm, but that particular detail gives it the distinct feel of a hospital room...

He could try the door again, he could call for help or try to find some way to open the windows. Instead he decides to go sit down on the edge of the bed again. He is surprisingly calm all of a sudden, but maybe those are just the last remnants of the sedative he has been subjected to. Instinct still tells him to panic, but his rational mind tells him to wait. There is no immediate danger and no chance to escape. Someone will come for him eventually... that he is sure of. 

It doesn't take too long – at least from an objective point of view. But to Rafa it feels like an eternity and his initial strange calm vanishes more and more and a mixture of dread, anxiousness and fear takes over. When he finally hears the scraping and jingling of a key and the handle of the door moves, Rafa feels almost sick with anxious excitement. Finally there will be somebody for him to talk to, somebody to shed some light, give him some answers and hopefully be susceptible to talk some sense into and make them let him go.  
  
Nothing goes according to plan. The person stepping into the room is male, a little older than him, a little taller, a little more muscular. And he is alpha. The scent practically radiates right off of him. He closes and locks the door behind him before he turns to face Rafa – eyes cold and a mocking little smile on his face. There is exactly one purpose to him, he's supposed to intimidate. And even though Rafa tries not to fall prey to everything his instinct tells him to do, he's a lot less self assured than he has felt before this man has stepped into the room. Instead of demanding answers, demanding to be set free, he asks questions. 

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“Is that really what you want to know?”

“No. What I want is for you to let me go. Right now.”

The man himself and his enragingly cocky and self assured tone are what give Rafa the strength and courage to claim what has been his in the first place – freedom. But the stranger still standing by the door, sizing him up and never losing that damn arrogant smile on his lips, is less than impressed with the demands Rafa has. He simply shakes his head, looking utterly disinterested doing so. It's almost like this is a normal conversation for him, routine. That thought causes a cold hard knot of dread to form in Rafa's stomach. Maybe he is right... Maybe this isn't the first time this man talks to a captured omega...

“Not happening.”

“There has been some kind of mistake. Some misunderstanding...”

“No. No mistake. You're exactly where you're supposed to be.”

The grin on the other man's face widens and he is obviously very satisfied with himself. Rafa is caught somewhere between instinctual fear and a red hot anger that keeps him on the verge of losing his temper. This infuriating display of indifference is simply wrong and he shouldn't even be talking to this stranger who seems to think so highly of himself. He should be with his family, happy and free to go wherever he wants! No trapped in this room with some guy claiming this is where he belongs. But yet again his passionate plea for his own rights is only met with indifference and amusement.

“I'm supposed to be at home! With my family and friends, enjoying my time off!”

“Well, that won't happen. And if it's joy you're after... this is the wrong place for you, I can guarantee you that.”

The lingering threat in the last words the stranger says, gives Rafa pause. He isn't sure if the other man means to intimidate him or if he is simply relaying facts. Either way, Rafa doesn't like it and he wants out of this situation as soon as possible. He's not stupid. He's aware that the three masked man showing up at his home and him waking in an unfamiliar room with locked windows and doors means only one thing. He has been kidnapped and there is a solution to the problem. Probably an expensive solution but still... All he has to do is get the stranger to admit to the facts and then he can make sure he gets out of this mess... somehow. 

“What the hell do you want from me?! This... happened for a reason, I guess? You talking to me is happening for a reason as well? Why don't you just tell me what it is!”

The other man – the smug alpha – doesn't say a single thing in response, but simply keeps on smiling at him. A small, wolfish, almost predatory smile that causes a chill to run down Rafa's spine. This time however Rafa is sure the other man is just trying to rattle him. He is sure he is right about his assessment of the situation. This is all about financial gain. But obviously he needs to be a little more... forceful and direct in his approach. He tries again.

“Look, if it's payment you're after. Money is... not an issue.”

“I wouldn't care for an omega's money if it was thrown at me.”

Saying the words, practically hurling them at Rafa like the insult that they are, is the first time the alpha shows any kind of emotional reaction. Rafa however is too taken aback by the stranger's knowledge to actually listen to the meaning behind those words. He has taken his suppressants up to that morning when the three masked strangers had appeared at the house. So the other man shouldn't be aware of his status. The very simple explanation that he knows because Rafa has told all the world in a press release just a couple of days ago, simply eludes him in that moment. But he is reminded rather bluntly by the arrogant alpha, who has resumed his former posture and facial expression all too quickly. 

“How do you....”

“Probably shouldn't have pranced about and made your status known for all the world to hear and see, eh?”

“Why would that matter?!”

Rafa can't keep both his fury and his anxiousness contained any longer. He has been sure this is about the fact that he is an internationally recognized athlete who has just won Wimbledon for the very first time in his life. It has gathered attention... and quite obviously the wrong kind. But as it turns out this is not about tennis or sport or the fact that his name has been in the press a lot lately. It's about his status, about the fact that he is omega... the one thing that was NOT supposed to make a difference. But right here, right now it obviously does. Instead of answering his question, the alpha counters with a question of his own. 

“You wanted to know where you are?”

“Yes!”

“This is a fertility clinic. And – as I told you already - you are right where you belong.”

The implications are clear as day and still Rafa is completely and utterly unable to understand them, let alone believe them. A fertility clinic... These people want to use his omega status, want to use what he is, want to use HIM for their purposes and personal gain... Rafa shakes his head rather violently, willing the thought away. He still has no clue where he is exactly and how much time has passed, but he is sure his absence has been noticed by now. Obviously these... crazy idiots holding him hostage haven't thought about that. 

“You won't get away with this! My family will be looking for me.”

“Oh, they are. There is a whole police investigation going on. But they won't find you. And eventually they will give up. You might be a famous omega, but your still only omega. No police force in the world will waste extended time or money or workforce on a missing omega. At some point they will forget about you.”

The alpha stays completely calm and the fact that he seems to not only be aware, but unworried about a police investigation going on in search of Rafa, causes that cold hard knot to tighten in the younger man's stomach. He has been gone long enough for his family to notice and for the police to be involved. But he hasn't been found and these people in this so called 'clinic' seem very sure of themselves that Rafa will not be found under any circumstance. He swallows hard, his voice breaking a little, betraying how unsure he feels of himself despite wanting to show a different display of emotions. 

“My family will never stop looking for me.”

“Be that as it may. But they will never find you. So you better start getting used to this place. This is your new home, your new life. Welcome.” 

Those are the last words the alpha says to him, before he turns, unlocks the door, leaves the room and locks the door again behind him, before Rafa has so much as a chance to stop him or intervene and try to fight for his freedom in any way. He is left alone with those fateful, dooming words the alpha has said to him. Nobody else comes to talk to him for the remainder of that day. He doesn't see another living soul until the sun starts to set. 

Somebody brings him food in the evening and he makes the mistake of eating it. But he's been there the whole day, he is worried and above all else he is hungry... It's not even 15 minutes later that he starts feeling even more tired and slightly dizzy. Either his food or drink must have been spiked with some sort of sedative. They want him to sleep... want him to not be a nuisance and ask any more questions or try to figure out how to get out of this place...It is the last conscious thought Rafa has before the drug induced sleep claims him. 

His second day is very much spent like his first and Rafa is pretty sure this forced isolation is part of their agenda... to make him compliant. It's not that he can't be alone. He simply doesn't like it – even more so in the situation he is currently stuck in. His only contact with the outside world is a quite beta woman who brings him his food, never once makes eye contact and doesn't answer any of his questions. She simply brings in a tray, places it on the table and leaves again.

Rafa doesn't make the same mistake twice. He doesn't eat the food brought to him, despite the fact that he is hungry. He does – however - keep the plastic cup that holds some orange juice, disposes it's contents into the toilet bowl in the adjacent bathroom, rinses out the cup thoroughly and fills it back up with water from the tab. That should be relatively safe and keeping hydrated is certainly not a bad idea. The cup is the only thing he keeps. Everything else stays untouched and the woman comes by 45 minutes later and picks up the still full tray without a word or a show of emotion on her face.

The whole procedure repeats itself two more times – for lunch and for an afternoon coffee and cake, which seems entirely ludicrous to Rafa – and each time the woman picks up the tray full of food and drink again without so much as a monosyllabic comment. But she definitely tells someone about it. Because in the late afternoon Rafa gets a different visitor. Not the silent woman, not the smug alpha, but a third person. This one however is equally as self-assured and unlikable as the alpha from yesterday. And he is just as blunt and demanding in his approach to make Rafa see that there is no escape from this fate that has been bestowed upon him.

“My staff tells me you're not eating.”

“Your staff? You're in charge here?”

The other man – a beta as Rafa realizes now – does not answer his question. Just like the other man the day before, he seems very much uninterested in what Rafa has to say or ask. All he cares about is getting his point across and he takes the added bonus of a chance to intimidate and scare the man in his captivity. Obviously he seems to feel just like the alpha on his staff – that somebody like Rafa, an omega like him has neither rights nor dignity and doesn't deserve a chance to voice his opinion. The beta tells him what is expected of him and Rafa retaliates without a second thought to his own safety or well-being. He is simply fed up with this whole situation – more than he is scared of it. 

“There is no use in defiance.”

“I bet you say that to all the people you kidnap and imprison.”

The older man – a doctor Rafa realizes only now by the lab coat he is wearing and his mention of staff – chuckles in amusement at the younger man's sarcasm. The last thing Rafa has wanted was to make the other man smile. He wants him to understand that – despite what the older man tells him – defiance and a fight is all he will get from Rafa. He certainly isn't willing to accept his situation and he will not give up finding a way out of this mess until he has succeeded. The doctor however seems less than impressed with the vehemence of Rafa's statement. It's more like he... enjoys the show and he keeps on doing that, even as Rafa tells him – in no uncertain terms – to stop this whole farce and set him free again. 

“You're a feisty one. No wonder you decided it was a good idea to make your status public knowledge.”

“I want you to let me go. Right now.”

“Yes, of course you would want that. But in this place, it doesn't matter what you want. All that matters is what you can do for us.”

“I won't do anything for you!”

Rafa can't help his emotionally loaded reaction as he yells at the older man quite forcefully. But all the doctor does in response is smile at him – that same calm, predatory smile of superiority the other man who came to talk to Rafa the day before has had on his face. He is not convinced by Rafa's words, by the conviction and strength he tries to display. This man, this medical professional that wants to use Rafa's status, wants to use his very physical distinctiveness as an omega to gain from it and exploit it, believes he will win... and obviously he believes he will win easily.

“We'll see about that.”

Rafa glares at the older man in response to his self-assured arrogance and it is in fact the doctor, who breaks eye contact first. But it is not a triumph for Rafa – not by a long shot. It doesn't mean that he has won this silent argument. The other man has simply lost interest in him and his plea for freedom and flaming conviction for defiance. The doctor turns to leave, but stops again at the door, his tone of voice condescending and just a hint of coldness, the hint of a threat to the tone the older man uses to get his point across. 

“Now be a good boy and eat the food that is brought to you. Accept, adjust and make this easier on yourself. As I said – defiance is useless. You will have an easier time if you simply... embrace the fact, that this is your life now.”

The doctor leaves and Rafa feels about ready to scream or throw something at the closed door that keeps him confined to this sparsely furnished and depressingly impersonal room. He is supposed to accept.... But that is certainly NOT what he is going to do. He will get out of here – if it is the last thing he does. He certainly will not allow his captors the satisfaction of a win. They can believe whatever they want, but they certainly will not keep him here... and he NEVER will accept this mess to be his life now... He will get home, sooner rather than later.

What he needs is a plan. Actually he already has one, but his morals have been getting in the way up until this point. They still do, but it is a simple question of how much he is willing to risk, willing to sacrifice. Right now the answer is – a tiny part of himself, of his morals and principles and believes.   
He hates doing it. But he has to. It's the only chance out of here that he sees... 

When the woman that has been bringing him his food comes by with his dinner, Rafa is ready. He's not happy but he is determined and that gives him the strength and conviction he needs. So after the silent woman has played his tray of food on the table and turns to leave, Rafa attacks her. It's not a vicious or violent attack. He does NOT want to hurt her, he simply wants her to help him – albeit by force. But in all this, he feels awful. The woman is simply means to an end... and he tries his hardest to treat her as such.

It isn't even difficult. He's taller than her, stronger than her and she doesn't fight back, doesn't even try to struggle free of his grasp or scream for help. She simply stills as he wraps an arm around her neck – almost like a limp rag doll. Rafa tries no to dwell on how he feels. This is about escaping, about a chance at freedom, a chance to make it home. He forces himself to stay strong... and detached. 

“Give me your keys.”

Even now that he asks a possession of her, asks the woman to deliver the one chance he has at leaving this place to him, she doesn't fight back, doesn't say anything, doesn't try to stop him. She simply reaches into the pocket of the cream colored cardigan she is wearing and hands the keys to him. It's a large bundle with more than a dozen keys on it, but she actually hands it to him with one key held in her hands – which Rafa assumes is the one that opens the door to his room.

He walks towards the door, keeping his hold on the woman and pushing her forward with him. There is one more thing he needs from her, one more piece of information for him to successfully make his escape from this miserable place. He lets go of her, gently but firmly pushing her aside when they reach the door, and puts the key in the whole. It fits perfectly and the door opens. But now he asks that one last decisive question he needs an answer to before stepping out into the corridor. 

“Tell me which way. Which way to get out of here?”

Even now – without the hold Rafa has had on her and the imminent threat to her safety gone – the woman is still compliant. She points to the left, never once uttering a single word, and Rafa gives her a grateful nod. He takes the keys with him and steps into the corridor, fully expecting to see another member off staff coming towards him or yelling for him to stop. But the corridor is empty. There is nobody to be seen. Maybe that is why they drug their captives at night... because there is nobody here to keep watch. Rafa doesn't really care about their reason. All he sees is the blessing in that fact.

He walks down the corridor – slow and careful – but never encounters another soul. He reaches the end of the corridor that is fenced and barred with yet another locked door. Figures... But at least he has a set of keys. All he needs to do now, is find the right one... He fidgets with the key chain the silent woman has given to him and almost drops it as his hands tremble with the excitement of a chance to escape. In the end he manages and tries a first key on the chain... It doesn't fit.

He is so engrossed in the task of finding the right key to unlock the door and get out of the damn building, he never even becomes aware of soft footsteps behind him. Not until it is way, way too late. He feels a soft shift in the air behind him, a very small gust of moving air and then there is a sharp pain on the right side right at the base of his neck. Rafa gasps, lets go of the key chain and grasps for the hurting spot. His motions are suddenly uncoordinated and by the time he manages to turn around and take a look at his attacker, his vision is already swimming. Still he recognizes the man standing right behind him, syringe in hand with it's plunger all the way down, cocky smile on his face. It's the alpha from the day before. His self-assured, almost happy words are the last thing Rafa is aware of before darkness claims him again.

“The doctor warned you to be a good boy. You should have listened...”


End file.
